


Hold On

by RainbowTrout1998



Category: Chicago Fire
Genre: And so does Kelly, Angst, Anxiety, Bromance, Casey needs a hug, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hospitalization, Injury, Multi, Recovery, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, hurt!Casey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2019-10-09 19:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 45,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowTrout1998/pseuds/RainbowTrout1998
Summary: The deeper you sink the darker it gets. And, at the absolute bottom, there is no light. Not a single spark of hope. You can search for it, you can strain your eyes for the tiniest glimmer, but you won’t be able to find it.Because it doesn’t exist.For there’s no salvation at the bottom.And Casey didn’t think he could make it out.





	1. No Embers in Sight

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be a fairly long fic... and hopefully will be angsty as hell. 
> 
> Casey always seems close to infallible in the show... I am not convinced. I think he's depressed. Like severely depressed. He's masked it, sure, but he 'deals with things' 'too well'. Plus, I'm tired of him always being okay. 
> 
> There are obvious triggers in this fic... Casey is in a dark place. 
> 
> Please reach out to somebody - even a hot line - if you are not in a good place.

Winter in Chicago was always bitterly cold. The blistering wind would cut through clothing and bite into unsuspecting flesh, chilling all the wrong places. Most of the time – in the city at least – the snow would melt and refreeze before it hit the ground, so it would come down as miserable sleet. And the sleet would creep into the gaps in your clothing, leaving it damp and cold. The dryness of the air would leave lips chapped and bleeding, and sting eyes. Eyes that could see nothing but grey. The sky was grey. The ground was grey. There was no color in sight between the city buildings.

_Plus, winter is always when everything goes wrong._

At least, that’s what was going through Matthew Casey’s mind as he stared out of the window in Severide’s spare bedroom. He had lost Hallie in winter. Both of his parents. Got his TBI. Lost the Darden boys. Darden.

And now his home. Naomi.

Everything he had built with Gabby.

Casey knew he had to be on shift in under an hour, but in all honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could be bothered to get up. Getting up would mean facing the house, which would mean facing his crew. And for that, he would have to pretend to be okay.

And man, was he tired of pretending.

Especially now, when everyone was looking out for him, trying to help him, trying to be there for him, _watching him._

And while he knew he should appreciate their help, their care, it made it harder to hide what he had managed to hide for so long. _And that made him an ungrateful bastard._

_An ungrateful bastard who deserved nothing._

That’s why he had left after Hallie died. It hadn’t been to clear his head. It had been to escape. To get away from all the prying eyes. So, he could get himself in order, so no one would expect anything. Just so he could keep his secret a little bit longer.  

But this time, he had no reason to leave.

He should be able to deal with this. He went into burning buildings every day. He’d been on the other side more times than he could count, and it was expected that he could deal with it. He would never be able to get leave in a way that wouldn’t set alarm bells ringing with the CFD.

So, he was as trapped as he was in life.

Casey tried to blink back the tears as they invaded his eyes. Another sign of how weak he was. Resting his head in his hand, he desperately tried to hold back his sobs. He needed to hide his weakness, and for all he knew Severide was standing on the other side of the door listening.

_Don’t be stupid, Casey. He has better things to do. He has Kidd. Why would he give a damn about you?_

Casey sighed as his throat tightened, and he covered his eyes with his hand. Taking a shuddering breath in, he dragged his knees to his chest and dropped his head to them, trying to make himself smaller. Maybe no one would notice him, and they’d leave him alone.

“Casey!”

He flinched, dropping his knees back down and quickly wiping his face. He heard footsteps approach his door before an abrupt knocking.

“Casey?”

Casey scrubbed his hand over his face once again, swallowing and hoping his voice would be normal, before climbing off his bed, “Severide?”

The door knob rattled for a moment, before the squad lieutenant seemingly decided not to open it, “You up? We need to get going.”

Casey sighed, glancing through the window again, “Yeah, coming.”

He could almost hear Kelly nodding, “Alright, bud. Breakfast’s on the table.”

There was another pause, before the footsteps faded back down the hall. The truck captain closed his eyes, counting to ten as he tried to calm himself. He scrubbed a hand over his face. _Get yourself together, Casey. Severide knew something was up. How are you supposed to live with the guy if he knows you’re depressed?_

And that was the brunt of it, he realized. He was depressed and had been for years. But there was nothing that could stop it. The anti-depressants hadn’t worked. Nor had talking to a shrink. He eventually realized that the only thing he could do was try to fill the gaping hole and keep himself busy, that's why he'd had sude projects going, always fixed up his own houses. And now even that had gone. Been burnt to a crisp within seconds. Just fleeting flickers of flame left. Like his life.  

He considered telling Kelly, so the guy didn’t waste his time trying to help someone not worth helping.

_Maybe it’s better if Kelly just kicks me out. Easier on him._

But then Kelly was bound to go to the CFD and tell them… no one could trust him to work if he was depressed. Not his crew, and certainly not another officer. He’d lose yet another aspect of his life, one he knew he could not live without.

Briefly, he considered how selfish he was to put everyone else at risk. _But that’s just me. Selfish Matthew Casey._

He could hear Severide cluttering around downstairs, and his thoughts shifted to the idea of breakfast.

Severide shouldn’t be making him food to eat. He didn’t need it. _Didn’t deserve it._

Casey groaned and put his head in his hands. If he stayed in his room, Severide would know something was up, and it was only a matter of time before he would be kicked out. Leave the room, and he would be expected to eat. He had a sudden juvenile urge to climb out of the window and just leave, then nobody would have to bother about him again.

_But then, they’d have to tell CPD I’m missing. I’d just waste police resources._

Desperately, Casey cast his eyes around his room, as though he would find an answer.

His eyes fell onto the Walmart bags that Cindy Herrmann had brought him. He’d emptied them out last night, sorting through all his new clothes and belongings. The bags had been thrown in a heap in the corner of the room, trying to conceal the one item he had left behind.

The item he couldn’t bear to touch.

The razor.

Tears started to drip down his face again. He’d been holding off for so long. Being with Dawson had helped him starve the habit. She was a constant distraction and he needed his entire focus just to keep up with her. After that, he’d only kept an electric razor, one that was advertised to be ‘self-harm proof’.  He’d always kept anything sharp locked up, so he had time to _think_ before getting to them. But despite years of not acting, some appetites never disappear.

And Cindy had unknowingly set off all his demons. Of course, she didn’t realize what he did to himself in his own time – surely no one at the station did – but she had loaded the gun and now he had the trigger in his hand. It would be so easy to act on his inner thoughts.

Casey found himself moving towards the bags, as though in a trance, carelessly flinging them to the side, one by one.

Finally, arriving at the bottom one that held his prize.

He was aware his hands were trembling, nausea setting in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t done this for so long, but now it was in front of him…

A sickening sense of excitement buzzed through him.

_Go on, Casey. You deserve it…_

“Case?”

Casey jumped, spinning around and seeing Kelly standing in his doorway, watching him with a note of concern. Quickly, he rose to his feet, hands clenched by his sides.

“S- sorry.”

Severide’s concern only grew as he took in the truck captain’s pale appearance, “You alright, Casey?”

Quickly, Casey nodded, gesturing to the bags, “Uh… yeah. I just realized I don’t have…”

Severide raised his eyebrows, willing Casey to continue. But the blond seemed to be tongue tied, unable to organize his thoughts.

“You know you can borrow anything from me. If I don’t have something, then we can stop by the shops on the way into the station.”

Matt nodded, closing his eyes, “Uh, yeah… I just don’t have… a razor. But it’s not a big deal.”

Kelly snorted and rolled his eyes, “Casey, I’ll get you one from my bathroom, I have spares –  “

“No, no… it’s fine, Severide, really.”

If Kelly was surprised at Casey’s desperate response, he didn’t show it. Instead, he nodded, “Well, there’s breakfast downstairs. I’m just going to finish getting ready.”

And with that, Kelly left the room. Casey nodded, noting something seemed off about the squad lieutenant. _He probably just doesn’t want you here. You’re nothing but an inconvenience._

He forced himself downstairs, choking down some cereal he didn’t think he deserved, trying his best for it not to come rushing back up. As he was putting the bowl in the dish washer, Kelly thudded back down the stairs. He turned to him, noting that he didn’t seem very refreshed.

“Everything okay?”

There was a flicker across Kelly’s face, as though he was thinking of saying something. Then it faded, “Course, bud. I’m good.”

Kelly gestured towards the door, and Casey nodded, keeping his head down as he walked through it.

So, he didn’t notice Severide survey him with concern.

_What is going on with Casey?_


	2. Blind the Weary Driver

They had arrived at the station just in the nick of time for roll call, managing to slip in at the back without much fuss. Boden had glanced at them, prepared to comment on his longest-running and most respected officers being the last to arrive, but a pleading glance from Kelly was enough for him to keep quiet. If there were any issues, it could be dealt with in his private office.

But that didn’t stop a few tactless remarks from the other firefighters. As soon as Boden adjourned the meeting, Otis and Cruz walked over to their superiors, both smirking, “Nice of you to join us, Lieutenants.”

Otis had gestured at the lieutenant shirt Casey was still wearing. The Captain didn’t respond, face impassive as he tried to hide his disappointment. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Severide frowning and he willed him to keep quiet.

_Otis is just being an idiot, Severide, please._

Cruz seemed to notice the mood, and his smirk quickly vanished, but Otis didn’t seem to get the hint that now wasn’t the time. After all, usually breaking each other’s balls was a sure sign of comradery, a way of telling each other that they were there for support. But Otis – being Otis – wasn’t the best at reading emotion, nor was he fine-tuned at offering comfort. He was the clumsy joker, the clown. Something he had to battle at times in order to be taken seriously. So, it wasn’t a surprise when he ignored Cruz’s insistent tapping on his shoulder and Severide’s expression, stepping forwards to deliver what he thought was the final bow.

 “I didn’t realise burning your shirt was a way to get demoted, Captain. If it’s that easy I’m surprised Severide still holds rank – “

Somehow, Casey managed to grab his squad counterpart as he swung at Otis. Cruz pulled his long-time friend back to safety as  as Casey grabbed Kelly’s shoulders, “ _Sev.”_

But Kelly was still reeling in anger, hardly able to make sense of the situation. Before he could process what was happening, he’d turned on Casey and punched him in the jaw. Casey gave a cry of pain as his head shot back and hit the wall with a dull _thunk_ and he let go of Severide, doubling over and holding the back of his head.

Kelly took a menacing step towards the younger firefighter, “And what the hell does _that_ mean, Otis?”

Otis’ eyes widened in shock. Severide was a hothead, sure, but it wasn’t like him to have a response _that_ aggressive, especially towards someone from his own house – towards his own brothers. Before he could try to stammer a response, Boden was standing in the doorway.

“Captain. Lieutenant. My office, now!”

Severide realized where he was as he saw Boden, coming back to reality with a jolt. The man in question was fuming as he glared at his two long-term right-hand men. Casey still had his eyes shut, rubbing the back of his head. As Boden stormed off, Herrmann stepped forwards and put an arm on his shoulder, “You alright, Captain?”

Casey slowly opened his eyes, before shrugging him off, smoothing down his hair before heading towards the hallway, “Absolutely fantastic, Herrmann.”

Severide watched him go, before surveying the scene around him. Otis still stood in front of him, face an amalgamation of regret and fear, Herrmann was shaking his head disapprovingly…

And Kidd was standing in the corner, looking embarrassed.

Half-hearted, Kelly banged his fist against the wall and tailed Casey out.

* * *

 After Boden had chewed both Casey and Severide out – and Casey notably hadn’t made any effort to defend himself – Otis was called into the office, where he was given a strict talking to about what was professional and what wasn’t. He would have been sent home, if it weren’t for Casey’s insistence that it was all a misunderstanding and that Otis hadn’t done any harm. Casey just wanted to forget the whole situation.

But regardless of the outcome, no one walked away from the situation feeling good and a tense atmosphere swept over fifty-one. Severide and Casey both disappeared to their offices and no one wanted to bother them.

They all knew Casey was stressed – and not to mention had bigger issues to deal with than firehouse drama – and they all doubted the guy had got any sleep, if the bags under his eyes were anything to go by. Stella had admitted that she and Kelly had broken up after Brett had asked – and kept asking – what was up with Severide. That has only caused more tension, as squad had isolated themselves from anything to do with Stella, which included truck. That had put truck in a hard place, as being on Kelly’s bad side was never to be desired – especially after his morning display. Stella, to her credit, tried to take it in her stride and confined herself to the ambulance crew.

The bells had gone off just as Ritter was serving up lunch – which only deteriorated the mood further – and Casey was the last to the truck as they all suited up.

As soon as the truck was moving, Otis turned to Casey, tossing up if he should say anything. The blonde busied himself with his radio – which was in perfect working order – and checked his equipment over and over. He was aware he was being immature, but he just couldn’t be bothered.

 _Yeah, good going, Casey. You can’t even face your own men._  

So, the only sounds were the engine and sirens as they arrived at the scene – a fully engaged apartment fire. Casey jumped out of the rig as his crew continued to unload and joined Severide and Herrmann as they waited for Boden’s update. Herrmann had awkwardly stood between them, before turning back to engine and tossing – totally unnecessary – instructions to them. Casey glanced up at Severide, the two only needing a moment of understanding. _It’s okay. You’re forgiven._

Boden walked back over, looking pissed, “Cause of fire unknown. Building hasn’t been evacuated. Most of the fire alarms have been broken because residents and management wouldn’t agree on who should pay for them. Squad, primary search on second story. Engine, Truck, primary on first. Casey, I want the ariel raised to the west window.”

“Copy that, Chief.”

All the leaders went off to their respective companies, Severide throwing orders for squad without missing a beat. Casey went back to his men, “Otis, raise the ariel to the west side. Ritter stick to Mouch, you’ll start at the entrance. Kidd, with me, starting at the back. We’ll all meet in the middle. Primary search on the first floor – stick close to the walls. Mask up.”

If Casey had waited for a moment longer, he would have noticed Otis sink down in disappointment and Mouch direct a questioning glance at him. But he was off before anyone had a chance to respond. Kidd jogged behind him, following him into the building.

Casey and Kidd started to head down the hall, going to the back of the building so they could make their way forwards. Some victims were in the hallway but were all thankfully able to continue their stagger towards the exit. Casey and Kidd made short work of banging down doors and checking if any tenants were trapped inside – and thankfully the few who were managed to crawl to where the engine crew were waiting to assist them further.

Casey had just banged down the door in the middle apartment when he heard a wailing coming from the lounge room. He jumped into action, turning to Kidd, “There’s a baby!”

They followed the baby’s cries, heading further into the apartment. And Casey was shocked. The apartment was _filthy._ Take-out containers littered the place and even through the smoke Casey could smell the foul stench of rotting food. He shook his head, _who can live like this?_

_Oh, that’s right. You. You lived like this after Hallie died._

He and Kidd made it to the lounge room with no event, seeing the baby wailing in a carrier. The little girl was dressed in her winter clothes, a nappy pack beside her, bundled up in a blanket and ready to go. But something was off.

The two firefighters exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing, _where are the parents?_

Casey pulled his radio up, reporting their findings to the Chief and asking if anyone knew the status of the child’s parents. He got a quick response – Father had died serving in Iraq. Mother was unaccounted for. Casey nodded, telling Boden he’d look for the mother.

Kidd was already lifting the baby from the carrier, concerned about her flushed cheeks. Stella marveled at the fact the baby was even _alive_ with the heat stoke she no doubt had. Casey nodded at her, re-gripping his halligan as he prepared to go further into the apartment.

“Kidd grab the baby. I’ll search the apartment.”  

Kidd nodded, ripping the blanket off the little girl and opening her turnout coat. But as she did, a slip of paper dropped to the ground. Her eyes widened in horror, “Captain!”

But Casey was already out of earshot, the fire raging. The fire was getting more intense, burn patterns telling Casey he was reaching the origin. Kicking a door in, Casey leant into the room, “Fire Department, Call Out!”.

There was no response. More rotting food, dirty sheets. But no person. Casey shook his head and ducked back out. His radio fizzled, “ _Casey! Out!”_

He didn’t think as he responded, “Almost out, Chief!”

Voices continued to try to reach him, escalating in desperation, but Casey was on a mission. He came to another door, kicking it in…

And gasped as he saw the sight. The kitchen was as decrepit as the rest of the apartment, all the appliances outdated, more old food spread across the table. Much of the room was already charred – indicating the captain was right and this place was the first to burn – so Casey was able to make out the figure slumped over the stove.

_Slumped over the stove?_

Casey gasped as his mind took in the situation further. A woman was slumped over the stove, a bag over her head, gaffer tape securing down the sides. She was breathing pure gas. _Suicide attempt._

The woman was cyanotic, not moving, eyes swollen. If Casey were thinking clearly, he would have realised it wasn’t a suicide attempt, but a suicide _success_. But he wasn’t thinking. His mind had started to race at a hundred miles per hour.

_No, no, no, no..._

A stab of panic went through him. This woman had a child… she had so much to live for. She didn’t need to kill herself…

_If he had been brave and done it earlier, it wouldn’t have happened…_

His thoughts made no sense, of course, but it didn’t matter to Casey. His mind kicked into overdrive, and Casey was relying only on his instinct as a firefighter. Disconnected from any rational thought, his body leapt into action. He dumped his halligan and pulled his radio up to his mouth. He briefly updated Boden that he’d found the cause and was coming out with a female victim, and that the paramedics needed to be ready for her. He didn’t listen to the hurried responses telling him to get out, telling him squad was on their way to get him. That he was already too late.

Casey moved towards the woman, taking her gently under one arm and pulling her head up, supporting it as it lolled. The bag was melted, sickeningly clinging to her flesh, causing it to then stick to the stove.

And tear off as Casey pulled at it.

Casey’s stomach lurched, but his desperation to save the woman won out. _Besides, Casey. This is your job. Or can you not even do that?_

Casey had just finished tearing the flimsy plastic away, when his eyes dropped to the stove. The gas was still on.

He stared at it for a moment, brain suddenly sluggish, flames around him moving in slow motion. _Gas… and flames…_

Somewhere behind him, Casey heard a disembodied voice call out. At first, he thought it was the woman, _but no. That’s a man’s voice._

“Casey, get down!”

But the warning had come too late.

Casey blinked once again, watching in fascination as he saw the flame erupt towards him. Towards the stove.

His last thought as he closed his eyes in preparation was to cover the woman, save her life. _At least one of us deserves to get out of here._

_And it’s not me._

Severide screamed as the stoic truck captain was thrown back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had a little more to this chapter... but thought this was a good place to leave it 😈
> 
> I wasn’t that happy with the chapter overall... but I need it to get where I want to go. 
> 
> I couldn't resist hurting Casey... as if the guy isn't already in a world of pain. But in this state... who knows what Severide will be able to work out. 
> 
> Title has changed to 'Hold On'. This is inspired by the song from an Australian TV series 'Tomorrow when the War Begun'. I think the song is a good summary of how Casey feels.


	3. The Wind Picked Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay... I ended up having to travel and haven't been in the country. Laptops are extremely inefficient to carry around and use on public buses... but I've been writing a few one-shots on my phone. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter... though I guess there's going to be some form of warning for every chapter, so...

Casey whacked into the wall, narrowly missing Severide as he took cover. Dark spots spread across his vision as agony shot through his head. He slid to the floor, blinking sluggishly as his vision swam. _Why was the damn room moving?_

“Casey!”

Casey groaned as he felt someone grab his shoulders, squeezing, a desperate voice cutting through the roar of the fire, “ _Casey, are you okay?”_

His head rolled to the side, staring at the charred floor under him, breath now coming in painful shudders. He just needed his head to stop hurting then he’d be _fine._ As his eyes drifted shut, some part of Casey was aware his mask was cracked, and that he was now breathing in toxic smoke. He needed to get out of there.

_But there was a reason I came in?_

Casey opened his eyes again, noticing a dark shape lying in front of him, _that’s strange. There wasn’t anything on the floor when I came in…_

And then, the figure came into sharp focus. Adrenaline kicked in and masked his pain, allowing him to be hyper-aware of the situation around him.

_The woman._

His mind started reeling, bringing him out of his situation and straight into a mild panic. Suddenly, the risk of the fire didn’t seem so important when there was a victim about to lose her life.

_Casey! Pay attention. Your life isn’t worth as much as hers._

As his mind continued to reel, he took in the woman’s features. She was staring directly at Casey, her blank eyes boring into his soul. _Why didn’t you save me? Why didn’t you?_

“Casey! Hey, Casey!”

The pressure on his face disappeared, then returned. But now he could breathe.

_Unlike the woman._

He was aware of Severide leaning over him, rubbing his chest. But Casey’s focus was taken. She was still staring at him, judging him. Disappointed.

_I was a single parent. I had so much to protect._

“Casey! Casey… c’mon, buddy.”

_And you failed me. You failed me, Matthew Casey._

He kept staring at the woman, aware that she would never see another day. That she’d never hold her child again. And it was all his fault. _Well done, Casey. You messed it all up again._

_Good going._

“Buddy come on… Chief, he seems stable but unresponsive. Capp, backboard and c-collar…”

The pressure on his chest increased as Kelly gave one last attempt to rouse him, ‘C’mon, buddy… Casey!”

Some part of Casey’s brain was shouting at him to get out, to get himself to safety. He knew he and Severide were in very real danger.

_But you’re being selfish, Casey. Why do you deserve to live when she will never escape?_

_You’re just useless, Matthew Casey. These things keep happening for a reason._

He could suddenly hear a second voice, it and Severide quickly exchanging instructions. Casey blinked, trying to clear his head, “… Kel?”

Severide’s face appeared over his, grin visible through his mask, “Hey, bud. Don’t worry, we’ve got you. Keep still.”

Casey struggled to grip the situation, only moments flickering before his eyes. Severide moving around the side of him. Then Severide fiddling with something. Keeling over him. A flash of yellow and blue as he moved to secure the c-collar around his neck.

Because he was trapped in a building…

_Because of the women._

Casey started to move, pushing his arms out, trying to find the strength to get himself up. He felt Kelly grab his arm, before a disembodied voice came towards him, “No. Casey. You need to hold still. We’ve got to get a c-collar on you.”

Casey was too engrossed in his own head, “No. No I’m good, Sev. M’fine.”

“Casey, you need to be checked out! Casey, you need…”

But Casey wasn’t listening. He was crawling – on his hands and knees, because like _damn_ could he stand like this – over to the woman’s body, and with a pang Severide realized he was trying to stabilize her.

“Casey, it’s too late. Casey! Smoke’s turning black, buddy. Case!”

Before he was aware of what he was doing, Casey’s eyes were filling with tears as he shook his head, “But her baby…”

Casey sounded more broken than Severide had ever heard him, so he was tender when he reached out and gently took Casey’s shoulders, “Buddy, I’m sorry. It’s a recovery. We need to get out.”

He could feel Kelly’s arm under his own, guiding him to stand up, “Come on, Casey. One step at a time… Capp! Grab his other arm… you’re okay, Casey.”

Casey’s head was hanging low as they took baby steps towards the entrance, leaning heavily on his squad counterpart. Severide only paused long enough to tell the chief they were coming out, and Casey was alert and responding.

As soon as they stepped out into the freezing Chicago temperatures, Casey was led over to a waiting ambulance. Everyone seemed to be watching him, and Casey felt his face burning in shame.

_Way to make a scene._

He didn’t remember being dumped on the gurney, but suddenly Sylvie was standing in front of him, throwing questions at him and checking his lung sounds. Casey knew there was no point in denying a consultation – after all, Sylvie could be pretty headstrong when she wanted to be – and that being stubborn and refusing to answer would not give him any negotiation power when Sylvie would recommend he went to hospital.

Sure enough, once Sylvie pulled back she addressed him, “Casey, your pupils aren’t blown, you do seem to be aware – but given you were disorientated in the fire and your history, I recommend you get transported.”

Casey did his best to give her a winning smile, “Thanks, Sylvie. But I’m fine.”

Brett exchanged a look with Kelly – who Casey suddenly realized was still by his side – and put her head to the side, “But Casey… a blow to your head – “

“I know. But I’m not deteriorating, I’m getting better. So that means I’m probably fine, right?”

Sylvie looked helplessly to Severide, and for a moment guilt flashed through Casey – _Well done. Now she hates you. As she should –_ but he maintained his steady expression. Severide glanced between the two tentatively before putting a hand on Casey’s shoulder.

“Casey, I think you should be checked out – “

Casey did his best to direct them a winning smile, “Brett, _lieutenant_ Severide, I appreciate the concern but I. Am. Fine.”

Now that Casey had clearly established rank – something that made Severide shoot him a glare – they knew there wasn’t much to be done. Brett sighed and nodded, moving towards the back of the ambulance, retrieving some sheets and pulling out a pen, “I really think you should be checked out, Casey. But you can by all means refuse transportation. I just need you to sign some paperwork…”

Casey nodded, allowing Brett to hand him the disclaimers. Severide shook his head and made his way back to the scene.

The child was handed over to DCFS and taken to Med for a check-up, while the mother’s body was taken by police for investigation. Boden was tasked with informing arson investigations of their findings, but other than the lengthy process that would befall police throughout the next few days, overhaul passed without incident. Still, the idea of a single person’s suicide attempt endangering the lives of others was not one taken lightly by the firefighters. So much so, that once they returned to the house, they forewent their usual showers and went into the common room. Chief wanted to debrief everyone but was still in the process of calling PD for the building inspection, so the room sat in a stony silence while Ritter continued to cook lunch.

Mouch was the one who spoke first, having been staring at the blank television screen deep in thought, “How many people were in that apartment?”

There was a collective feeling of dismay as Severide responded, “Thirty-four victims, including the mother and her child.”

Mouch nodded, “And how many were taken to Med?”

“Twenty-six.”

Herrmann – who had been silently sitting with his head down – looked up in annoyance, “And all because one woman decided to off herself?”

Casey felt his blood run cold. He looked up from his seat at the head of the table, searching Herrmann’s eyes for any sign of sympathy.

But there was none.

_No, no, no, no…_

Herrmann was shaking in anger, his instinct as a father taking over, “I mean, what kind of monster does that to their child? You decide to gas yourself, and leave the poor kid waiting? What if the kid had died?”

Casey felt sick, paling as he noticed his brothers nodding their heads. _They all think she was selfish…_

Capp nodded in agreement, “She could have handed the kid to a firehouse, at least.”

But Brett shook her head and piped up, “Her husband died, she was depressed – “

Herrmann held his hands up, “Hey, hey, I’m not saying I don’t have _sympathy_ for her, but she’s ruined her kid’s life. That little girl’s life will never be the same.”

He sounded properly sad, and for a moment almost everyone’s heart went out to him. Herrmann never dealt with things well when it involved children.

But Casey’s head was spinning too fast for him to keep up, _Herrmann probably hates me. Why wouldn’t he?_

_The one you see as your father. He hates you too._

“That kid relied on her mother. And now she’s gone.”

The room sat in silence for a moment, allowing Casey’s thoughts to overpower his brain, _why do you even keep trying, Casey? They don’t care about you… and they’re the only family you have. It’s a good thing you don’t have kids…_

Otis seemed to be thinking, before opening his mouth…

“And there are other ways of killing yourself that doesn’t put an _entire building_ in danger – “

If Casey had stayed longer, he would have heard Otis add that the truck captain shouldn’t have been injured either. But his stomach chose that exact moment to rebel and he found himself stumbling to his feet, hand clapped over his mouth as he raced to the restrooms.

As soon as he was there, he hung his head over the bowl and heaved up the little breakfast he had eaten so many hours before. As it was mostly digested – and his stomach was empty – Casey could only heave up bile as he hung over the toilet.

_Damn, Casey. You can’t even listen to your friends share their opinions._

Heave.

_Can’t take any criticism. And you call yourself a leader?_

Heave.

_You should just go ahead and –_

“Casey?”

Matt heaved again, before feeling a hand softly land on his back. Severide looked over Casey in concern – _why didn’t he say he was feeling sick? –_ and continued to stroke his back as the final heaving ceased.

“Case, you okay, bud?”

Still feeling queasy – and as though almost any movement would set him off again – the truck captain turned around and mustered a glare at the squad lieutenant. Severide put his hands up, before gesturing back to the sink.

“Okay if I get you some water?”

Casey nodded, spitting again in the bowl and closing his eyes. He heard Severide open the door, before hearing Sylvie enter.

_Ugh. Please, no._

He heard the paramedic come up behind him, her cool hands gently taking his wrist and counting his pulse.

_Why are you letting her waste her time?_

As soon as her hands left him, Casey scrambled to let out another heave over the bowl. He could hear Sylvie talking to Severide but couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t even realise that she had secured a blood pressure cuff over around his arm.

“His blood pressure is low… you’d expect it to be high with a head injury…”

Matt gave a huff of annoyance as Severide started responding, ignoring his words, “Right here, guys.”

There was a moment of shocked silence, before Sylvie’s hand returned to the small of his neck, “How are you feeling, Captain?”

Matt shrugged, wiping his mouth and spitting again, “I’m fine.”

Sylvie looked him over – he looked so damn sick she wanted to throw him on a gurney right then and there. But she also knew that his symptoms weren’t nearly serious enough to warrant any real concern, even with his history.

For a moment, she wondered if something else was going on for Casey to be looking as awful as he did.

“Casey, I know you don’t want to but – “

“I don’t need to go to Med.”

Icy silence. Perhaps that had come out more aggressively than intended.

“Buddy, you should be checked out – there might be something going on in that brain of yours.”

_Huh. If only you had any idea…_

“Captain. It’s not a medical emergency. But for certainty – “

“You can only force me to go if I’m dying. Which I’m not. I’m competent to make my own medical decisions.”

He could see Sylvie glance back to Severide, then she gently begun, “Casey, I’d like to transport you – “

“Well, this is me refusing transport.” Casey snarked, aware that Brett had just frozen as his unusual attitude.

_Oh look, Casey. Can’t even be nice to your own friends._

He sighed, running a hand over his pounding head. He just wanted to be left _alone._ He was still kneeling over the damn toilet, the stench of his own sick making his stomach turn again. He was vulnerable – something that the usually impassive truck captain never dealt with well – and Severide and Brett were talking about him as though he wasn’t there. He numbly heard Brett saying something to Severide about irritability being one of the symptoms of a concussion, and Severide agreeing.

_I’m not irritable. Just not worth your time._

“Okay, Casey. Final offer. You stay in your bunk for a couple of hours, and Brett can check you over periodically. When she’s satisfied you aren’t _bleeding into your brain,_ I’ll take you home. It’s that or Med.”

Casey rolled his eyes, “I’m fine.”

“If you can’t even answer my question – “

“No. I’m fine. I’ll stay in my bunk. I don’t need to be checked on, but I’ll stay.”

Severide smiled, “Okay, need help?”

Casey shook his head, but as he stood a wave of dizziness washed over him, and he stuck out a hand to stop himself falling over. He felt Severide’s arm around him – the second time that day, he noticed with embarrassment – and felt himself being hauled towards the door. Casey closed his eyes and allowed Kelly to guide him.

_This would be nice…_

_No. you don’t deserve it, Casey._

Before Casey actually knew what was happening, he was lying down in his bunk and Severide was opening the door, carrying an assortment of items. _Maybe I do have a concussion._

“Casey, Brett gave me this… she said it should help with the nausea. Put it under your tongue. She just got called out, but she’ll check on you when she gets back. I also got you some crackers.”

Severide sat down beside him, subconsciously rubbing Casey’s shoulder, “There’s also water, and your bin is just beside you… if you need to be sick, don’t be a hero. I’d rather clean the bin then the entire hallway.”

Casey smiled – _Kelly’s teasing you. Smile. Smile._ – and gently nudged Kelly back, “Thanks.”

Kelly nodded, then seemed almost unsure for a moment, “Hey, Case?”

Matt cracked his eyes open, and Severide shuffled, uncertainly, “I’m sorry about hitting you – before the call.”

Casey frowned, struggling to drag up the memories.

“I should have apologized earlier. That’s on me.”

Matt couldn’t understand why Severide was even bothering. No one cared how he felt – why did Severide have to waste his breath? “It doesn’t matter, Sev.”

“It does. I shouldn’t have done it… then you more or less taking the fall in Boden’s office. I’m sorry, man. Sylvie said it could have contributed to the concussion…”

Momentarily, Casey considered telling the guy the truth to appease his guilt. That he wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating and was close to breaking point. But again, his selfish side won out. _Damn, selfish bastard Casey…_

“It’s fine, Severide, really. I took a much harder hit at the scene.”

Kelly surveyed him, then slowly nodded, “Yeah. Okay, Casey.”

Severide leant down and squeezed his shoulders again, before reminding him about the water and trash can. Then he left Casey to his thoughts.

_Damn it, Severide. Why are you pretending to care?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that didn't disappoint! There's a few more chapters before it really gets into Casey's agony... before everything finally hits rock bottom. I know it might not have gone quite in the direction some hoped for... that direction is coming, that's all I'll say!


	4. Words Don't Sink They Swim

Casey ended up sleeping for the next hour, during which time Brett returned from the call – some stupid teenagers had decided to tryout parkour in a building site – and Stella and Herrmann had managed to clash over the call. Without Brett or Foster to act as a buffer, Kidd had bit back at Hermann’s continued bitterness towards the woman. Herrmann, who was never good with keeping his opinion to himself, had been more than happy to tell Kidd why she was wrong.

After learning about the tensions in his own house, Boden paused the calls to DCFS and gathered everyone into the meeting room – sans Casey – eager to get to the bottom of the tensions in his house.

As everyone sat down, Boden cast a critical eye over his house. Analyzing everyone’s attitudes, seeing if more alarm bells should be ringing in his head than already were. Any call involving suicide or children were among the most difficult to deal with, and this had been a double. Even with the high amount of emotional training every firefighter had, and the high pressures they had all already faced, Boden felt it his own responsibility to look after everyone in his house. All his children.

Within seconds, he had mapped out the room – Capp, Brett and Foster seemed downcast, silently taking their places and waiting to hear what their chief wanted to say. Cruz, Mouch and Tony seemed to be indifferent, while Ritter just seemed to be shocked. Severide took his place standing at the back, more worried about Casey’s head injury than the call itself. Kidd was glaring at Herrmann and Otis from across the room, who both seemed to be quite annoyed at the situation.

Clearing his throat, he got the unwavering attention of his firefighters. Briefly, he explained that everyone would get a chance to speak, and that there was to be no judgement passed in the room. He took the time to mention that his office was open, as well as the CFD’s Chaplin, either of the lieutenants and of course Casey, once he was back to health. Finally, Boden added that the woman’s name was Abigail and the girl’s name was Mia.

With that, he nodded to the clock, “I’ve taken the house off rotation for the next hour, so we have as much time as needed. Remember this is a judgement free environment – there is to be no causing tension in this room.”

Boden nodded, and there was only a moments silence before Herrmann spoke, “Any news on the little girl?”

Boden nodded, “Mia is out of intensive care, being monitored for the next forty-eight hours. She was very lucky. A foster family is with her, and an adoption family is already lined up if no relatives can be found. It’s a very good outcome.”

Stella glanced sideways to Herrmann, smugly raising her eyebrows, “Sounds like everything turned out for the best.”

Herrmann shrugged, purposefully acting dismissive to annoy Kidd, “Any future without the mother involved will be a bright one.”

Anyone thinking rationally would have realised that Herrmann’s strong paternal instinct was clouding his judgement. They all knew he was immediately defensive of any child, that these calls were the ones that affected him the most. Everyone had shortcomings, and in some ways, Herrmann’s was that he cared too much.

But Stella’s shortcomings included her quick tongue and over-confident attitude, which didn’t bode well in the situation.

So, she rolled her eyes, doing her best to sound smug, “You don’t know that – “

Herrmann shrugged, “The woman killed herself because she lost her husband. How can you expect someone like that to raise a child?”

Stella glared at Herrmann, “The woman’s name is Abigail – “

“I don’t care if her name was Dixie Dixon, she shouldn’t have been responsible for a child – “

“Enough!”

Boden’s voice cut through the din. Simultaneously, everyone flinched as Herrmann stared between the two firefighters. Neither were going to back down, though. Each thinking their points were the most valid.

“Which part of _no judgement_ was not clear?”

“All I’m saying, Chief, is that girl’s life – “

Boden stared Herrmann down, a look that would give anyone the shivers, but only made Herrmann roll his eyes, “Thank you, Herrmann. Might I remind you that you are a _lieutenant_ in this house, and you should behave as such.”

Kidd smirked at him, and Herrmann bit back the urge to retaliate. Boden glanced around, “Anyone else want to say anything?”

He was met with silence, no one wanting to test the waters. Any calm atmosphere in the house was now completely depleted, and everyone was settling in for what would be an uncomfortable shift.

Just as Boden was prepared to call the meeting to an end, Foster glanced around her. Being new to the house, she was unsure if she should speak up, but she found the atmosphere unbearable, “I don’t want to seem too forwards, but… I think the best thing to take from this is that we’re all a family, we all support each other… no one here is alone like that.”

She nodded when she was done, awkwardly leaning back and not noticing the proud expression Brett was giving her. Boden nodded, casting a proud look at his newest paramedic, “Emily’s right. The key thing that Abigail was missing was a support line, which is something you all have here at fifty-one. Again, the Chaplin’s office is always open, so is mine. I know that lieutenants Herrmann and Severide always have their door open, as does Captain Casey.”

Everyone nodded, and the meeting was adjourned. Kidd and Herrmann were the first out, setting off in separate directions. For a moment, Severide considered following her, but his urge to get back to Casey won out. Foster’s words had rung true, and he wished Casey could have heard them.

Sylvie was making her way back towards Casey’s office, so Kelly jogged to catch up to her.

“I didn’t think he would call if he needed anything, so I checked in a couple of times. He’s just been sleeping…”

Brett nodded, “As long as he doesn’t go past two hours… that’s fine.”

Just as they were arriving at Casey’s door, Sylvie turned back to the squad lieutenant, “He’s still staying with you, right?”

Severide nodded. Brett seemed to think over her next words carefully, before glancing around, “How has he been holding up?”

Kelly felt guilt wash over him as he realised he actually didn’t know – no one had thought of asking the truck captain how he was, and Kelly had been too distracted with his own issues to even realise. Of course, everyone expected Casey to be stressed, pissed off, and burdened with the task of finding a new place to live, but Severide realised he hadn’t considered the emotional part of this. Casey had lost everything. The life he’d built up from the ground… and, as much as Severide hadn’t liked Naomi, Casey had found happiness in her. And she’d upped and left for a job, just like Dawson.

And now his mind was drawing frightening parallels between Abigail’s death and Casey’s current situation.

But Casey _wasn’t_ Abigail, he had been through shit before and been okay. He was the strongest person in the house, he had everything together. He had overcome the heartache of his past and was seen as the sturdiest person in the house. The one that could be relied on.

Besides, Casey had his own way of dealing with things, he didn’t need any help. _Casey’s Casey. He’s fine._

So, Severide just shrugged as he shook his head, “He’s Casey. He’s been dealing.”

Brett nodded thoughtfully, then pushed the door open.

“Hey, Casey?”

Casey was still curled on his side in the bed, and Severide couldn’t help but survey the captain. He really did look sick. _Damn, I should really keep an eye on him._

Casey stirred, blinking sluggishly as he took in Brett’s concerned form. Brett smiled at him – a smile she usually used to put patients at ease – and took a step closer, “How are you feeling?”

Matt blinked again, before yawning into the pillow, “I feel better already… I’m okay, Sylvie…”

Brett nodded, smiling as she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Casey’s arm, “Good to hear that, Captain.”

The room lapsed into silence for a few minutes, only soft whispers between Sylvie and Casey being spoken. Once Sylvie had checked his pupils, blood pressure and really a _lot_ more than she needed to, she smiled and sat back.

“Okay, Casey. It does just look like a mild concussion… how’s the headache?”

Casey did his best to give her a reassuring smile, “It’s just a little sore. I’m fine.”

Brett rolled her eyes, “Okay, translating that from a firefighter’s bullshit pain scale to a regular person’s… your head is pounding. I can give you some painkillers, Casey. I do want to keep an eye on you for another little while… the window for a concussion to become life threatening is typically four hours, so if it’s okay with you…”

Matt nodded, knowing he was in no position to negotiate. Plus, now that he was coming out of the concussion, he knew he couldn’t be alone. That he couldn’t trust himself. Not after that call.

_Because you’re too bloody weak, Casey._

Watching Sylvie sort through the jump bag, an unbearable feeling of guilt washed over Casey. Why were she and Severide still helping him when he’d been so awful to them before? Didn’t they have better things to do? He watched as Sylvie finished packing everything away, sans a few pills had she placed on his desk.

Casey closed his eyes, frowning slightly, “Sorry. About earlier.”

Both the other firefighter and paramedic turned to him, questioning expressions on their faces.

“What are you sorry for?”

Casey shrugged, resting his head on his hand, “Being irritable. You were just trying to help.”

Severide and Sylvie exchanged a concerned glance, before Brett shook her head, “It’s fine, Casey. I’ve had worse. Trust me.”

Severide grinned, chuckling, “And I’ve given you worse.”

Casey only nodded, still not putting his head up. Sylvie sighed, telling Severide he still needed some rest She squeezed Casey’s shoulder, rousing him and quickly dosing him up on ibuprofen. Casey still had his eyes squeezed shut in pain as Sylvie offered him more ondansetron for the nausea. He promptly refused it, so she rolled her eyes and left him a tablet on his desk. Severide then sat over Casey as he ate a few crackers, before patting him on the shoulder, “You alright if I leave, bud?”

Casey nodded, leaning back into the sheets. He didn’t want to be left alone, but he knew he’d be _alright_ as long as there was activity around him. And _alright_ was all he could hope for at this point. Besides, why would someone actually want to stay with him?

_Remember, Casey… you’re not worth it._

Severide seemed to pick up on Casey’s anxiety, and took a slow breath, “Or I could get some paperwork and stay in here?”

Casey’s eyes clouded at Severide’s offer… logically, he knew that Severide just felt responsible, guilty even, and was only staying with him out of obligation. But it was nice to pretend. Pretend that someone cared.

So, he cursed himself as his head nodded.

“Okay. I’ll just grab it from my office, Case.”

Severide rose, moving towards Casey’s office door. Casey watched him leave, a few tears spilling over. Desperately, he pressed the pillow into his face.

_Get a grip on yourself, Casey._


	5. The Dreams are Strange

Casey stared in absolute horror at the scene before him.

His whole body was shaking. He knew he had screwed up, but this was awful.

He was standing in front of a court. fifty-one was the jury. All were staring at him, disapproving.

Otis looked embarrassed. Cruz wouldn’t even meet his eyes. Sylvie was shaking her head. Herrmann’s look of disappointment was suffocating. Boden was glaring at him.

Severide looked sick.

Gabby was crying, embarrassed she had ever loved someone like him.

Shay was staring at him like he was the worse person in the world.

He took a breath that didn’t reach his lungs, desperate to look _anywhere_ but the jury.

But they were everywhere, duplicated and spotted around the room.

The courtroom then came into sharp focus, and he recognized it as the one had had stood in at sixteen, when he had to give testament at his mother’s hearing.

He ground his jaw, trying to keep the nausea at bay.

There was movement to the front, and he looked forwards.

His blood ran cold.

The woman – severely burned – was staring at him with the same dead, disappointed expression in her eyes.

_You failed me, Matthew Casey._

He tore his eyes away again as there was more movement, seeing the judge enter.

And he wished he was just _dead._

His father was wearing judge’s robes, staring at his son in disappointment.

But worst, was the bullet hole through his forehead. His grey face. Blue lips. Dead and sunken eyes.

_No, no, no, no._

Casey was unable to move as his father called the court to order, giving a run down of the proceedings, asking if anyone would be unable to give an unbiased decision.

No one said anything, just continued to stare at him.

Gregory Casey started to read out his son’s crimes, voice a monotone drawl.

_Failure to save a woman. Failure to perform his job._

_Putting other’s lives in danger. The murder of his own father._

_The murder of Andrew Darden._

_The murder of Hallie Thomas._

_For being a worthless son._

_For never amounting to anything._

Casey’s eyes were wide, staring at his father.

_Please. Please, no._

Gregory Casey looked at him again, disappointed. The only expression Casey could remember on his face.

_No, no, no, no._

A young girl’s voice came from the stand. It couldn’t have been the woman, so Casey looked forwards.

It was a little girl.

She was looking at Casey, betrayal on her face. Young. Vunerable.

“Why did you do it, Mr. Casey? Why’d you let my mum die?”

Casey swallowed down his nausea, looking down at his hands. They were covered in blood. His heart sped up as the little girl’s voice started morphing, becoming that of Andy Darden.

_No._

He looked up, seeing Darden stating at him. Charred. Burnt. After they had pulled him out of the house.

_No, no, no, no._

”I had sons, Casey. Did that not matter to you?”

_“Did we not matter to you?”_

Casey’s head jerked around, seeing Ben and Griffon standing near the witness stand. Heather was standing with them. Wearing an orange one piece, after her DUI.

”Why’d you buy me that drink, Casey?”

He started shaking his head, _no, no, no. I’m sorry… I’m sorry…_

He could feel himself sweating, knees going weak as though he was about to collapse.

_No, no, no, no._

Then Hallie was standing in front of him, ash still pooled beneath her nose.

_No._

She stared at him sadly, eyes clear and boring into him.

“Why, Matt? I thought you loved me.”

He could feel tears starting to flow down his face, he shook his head.

_No, no… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…_

Gregory Casey took the stand again, glancing around the court. He started speaking, but Casey could only understand one word.

_Guilty._

He glanced back to the jury. Peter Mills was hugging Gabby, comforting her. The rest of his brothers were disgusted with him. Severide was moving towards him.

Grabbing him, shaking him.

“Casey. Casey!”

He looked to Severide’s face, but his expression of rage was merging into one of concern.

“Casey!”

* * *

Casey jolted, eyes opening as he became aware. Severide was sitting over him, eyes wide in a mixture of horror and concern. Casey whipped his head to the side, trying to orientate himself, breaths still coming in uneven pants. But he was safe. He was lying down. It was night. He was at fifty-one. _He was safe._

He glanced back to Severide again, who was still staring at him with a look of concern. _Annoyance._ Slowly, the squad lieutenant moved off the captain, helping him sit up.

“You okay?”

Matt barely understood the words. He felt his cheeks turn red as embarrassment overwhelmed him.

_You’re a grown-ass man, Casey. What are you doing?_

Severide looked the captain up and down – he was coated in sweat, starting to soak through his shirt. It was clear he had been crying at some point and he was just staring at the folds in his sheets. _Must have been some terrifying nightmare._

“Casey?”

Matt jumped, staring at Kelly, “Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

And he meant it. Not just about the nightmare, or the concussion… Kelly meant it about everything. It wasn’t like Casey to act like this at all… he was usually so collected. It concerned Severide greatly, and he had a horrible feeling it wasn’t to do with the most recent events.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

The words felt like plastic coming from Casey’s mouth – and they sounded like damn plastic as well. For a moment – a fleeting moment – Kelly wanted to call him on his bullshit.

But he didn’t.

_And damn would he wish he had later._

So, Kelly just nodded dumbly. And not trusting himself to keep looking at Casey without caving, he looked away.

Casey watched him drop his gaze, sinking. _He just asked out of courtesy. He doesn't actually care._

He was brought out of his stupor by his office door opening, peering up to see Sylvie enter. He looked back into the bunk room and saw Cruz quickly drop his head. 

_Well done. You woke them all up._

She dropped the jump bag on his chair, doing her best to give him a cheery smile at whatever ungodly hour it was, “Like to keep us on our toes, hey, Captain?”

Casey just remained silent, gaze dropping back to the crumpled sheets. Brett glanced at Severide, before smiling at Casey again.

“Can I just check you over again, Captain?”

He nodded. If he was being a pain in the arse, he could at least try to reduce the time they had to spend with him.

_Why didn’t you do that earlier? Idiot._

Sylvie was more than efficient in checking Casey over, especially now that he was co-operating. Once she was done, she held out another dose of ibuprofen – which Casey took without protest.

“You seem fine to me, Casey. There’s defiantly nothing immediately concerning… of course, if you still feel unwell in a few days you should see a doctor.”

It was the generic spiel, nothing customized, which only confirmed to Casey that they couldn’t be bothered with him.

Still, he forced a well-practiced smile on his face, reassuring, comforting, “Thanks, Sylvie.”

She smiled at him, “No worries – “

Before she could get out the next word – _Matt –_ the klaxon rang. _Ambulance sixty-one._

She grinned at him, clapping him on the shoulder and ducking out. He watched her go, longing for the contact she had made with his shoulder.

* * *

After Sylvie had left, Severide had forced a few more crackers into him – at this stage, he had thrown up a dismal breakfast and skipped both lunch and dinner – and helped him to lie back down. Matt had closed his eyes immediately, but Kelly had waited until he was asleep before allowing himself to settle in the chair.

Dawn broke over fifty-one. Kelly had woken just before shift change, rousing Casey, who was suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to shower. While he was occupied, Severide took the time to gruel Sylvie on looking after Casey for the next few hours. She explained that he was probably fine, but for certainty, he should check on him and wake him up every two hours if Casey were sleeping. If something came up, she was only on the other end of the phone. Kelly was more than happy to set his alarm every two hours, especially if it meant Casey was more likely to be okay.

As Casey ambled towards him - still not looking very refreshed after his shower - Severide shot him a smile.

“Ready to go, bud?”

Casey nodded, and both slung their carryalls over their shoulders. They walked in silence, Kelly knowing that Matt was probably still in pain and didn’t want to talk. But his gait seemed steady enough as he arrived at the car. Severide could feel his eyes closing as he drove, between staying up with Casey for most of the night, and sleeping poorly in the chair, he was exhausted.

They arrived home to have a quick breakfast of cereal – Casey eating well enough for Severide to be satisfied – and then Kelly told Casey he was going upstairs to have a nap. He set his phone for just under two hours, if Casey decided to drop off – which looked like a very real possibility – he would be able to check his friend when needed.

Casey watched him go, guilt washing over him as he realized he was the reason Severide was so tired.

He closed his eyes.

_You’re a jackass, Casey._

He bit his lip, jamming it between his teeth, trying to calm his thoughts before they for the better of him.

_Come on, Casey. You’re fine. You’re fine._

_But there’s a reason everyone keeps leaving._

Casey quickly realized he’d have to distract himself, and fast. He was falling. He made his way over to the television, flicking it on, trying desperately to get lost in the lives of the characters on screen.

But he couldn’t.

Casey tried to focus on his breathing, managing to blearily watch a few episodes of some crap. He couldn’t have told you what it was – in fact he couldn’t have even told you if each episode was even the same show. He wasn't able to process anything. 

Then, there was a courtroom scene.

And suddenly, the air left the room. 

Some young mother, crying over _something._

But all Casey could see was the woman. And her daughter. 

He swallowed.

Her voice echoed in his head.

_You failed, and you’re trying to watch television?_

Casey bit his tongue again.

_Not this._

He could feel his jaw tightening until he could taste blood.

_Calm. Casey. Breathe…_

He lifted his right hand to his left, spreading out his thumb and pinching the space between them. He closed his eyes as he pressed harder, trying to bring his emotions in check.

But no success.

Adrenalin started burning in his chest, and his heart felt as though it was about to explode.

He jumped up, hoping that he could burn off the excess energy he could feel rising in his chest. He ambled around through the house, bouncing every now and again, barely aware of where he was going.

Then he arrived in his room.

And saw the Walmart bags.

_No._

Adrenaline was building up in his chest, giving him a sick sense of strength.

_But it wasn’t strength, not really._

He couldn’t feel himself walking towards the bag. Couldn’t feel himself crouch down. Couldn’t feel himself pull out the razor.

_But the whole point of this was so he could feel again._

Practiced fingers pulled apart the razor. Two of the blades went in his drawer.

The third stayed in his hand.

He walked past Kelly’s room, seeing the guy splayed out on his back, dead to the world.

_That’s your fault. He’d rather be enjoying his day. Worthless._

He withdrew and made his way into the bathroom.

Locking the door.

And he prepared himself. 


	6. A Juggernaut that’s Carved Itself in Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I ended up having to have surgery on my wisdom teeth, which knocked me on my arse a little more than expected. So there's been sickness-related delays (and lots of muddling through whatever it is I tried to write on strong painkillers), but this guy is now ready :) 
> 
> Good thing about that? Now writing a fic where Casey _also_ has to have surgery XD

Matthew Casey slid down the wall in the bathroom, bringing his knees to his chest. He tried to force air into his lungs, but it felt as though something were squeezing them, trying to stop them filling with oxygen. Desperately, he tried to fill them, tried to get past the feeling of suffocation.  

_In, out. In, out._

He knew breathing exercises as a firefighter. Ones to keep him safe in a smoky environment as well as ones to ward off panic. But nothing was stopping the suffocating feeling from rising. He thought his lungs were about to pop from the strain. And there was only one way to calm it.

_In, out. In, out._

Casey rocked himself, pressing his knees harder into his chest as he growled. He looked up, flinging his head back and banging it against the wall. The pain felt good, and he resisted the urge to do it again.

_In, out. Get a grip, Casey._

He knew that if he rewarded his thoughts, he would only make them stronger. Then it was a slippery slope that he knew he could not climb. One he knew would land him at the absolute bottom.

_He’d been there before, and barely made it out._

He took a ragged breath and opened his hand. Hoping he’d see the razor and be disgusted. That he’d see it and not be able to bare staring at it at a moment longer. That he’d see it and the desire would vanish.

But as soon as he saw the lustrous blade, his glimmer of hope, his desire only burned stronger.

And as though in a trance, Casey tugged his shirt off over his head.

_You deserve it, Casey. Go on._

Casey bit his lip, resisting the urge to scream. If he screamed, he’d wake Kelly, and he’d come and help him out of the pit.

And then he would find out his secret and would leave.

_Besides, what makes you think you deserve Kelly’s help?_

Casey moaned, and adjusted the blade in his grip. Staring at the way it sat in his fingers, so comfortably.

He was numbly aware of hot tears starting to track down his face, burning him as much as he hoped to be burned by the blade.

Casey took another breath, before slowly lowering the blade to his side, and pressing it down.

And for a fleeting moment, he was free.

* * *

Severide groaned as his phone blared at him, alarm fretfully trying to rouse him. His head was pounding in the way it does when one does not get enough sleep, every fiber of his being telling him to drift back off to dreamland.

But the agitated alarm continued.

Severide rubbed a hand over his eyes, trying to blink away the fog. He was being stupid, how could an alarm sound anxious? It was a damn alarm.

_Casey will be fine for another hour, surely…_

Pressing his head further into the pillow, Severide tried to weigh up the situation. He’d set the alarm for under two hours, and there was no way Casey had slept for all that time… and Brett had told him he’d probably be alright.

So surely sleeping for another little while – even half an hour – would be fine. He knew Casey wouldn’t care – in fact, Casey probably didn’t want to be bothered, he’d also had a rough night and sleep would surely help him.

But the longer the alarm rang, the more his sense of foreboding increased.

_Something isn’t right here._

* * *

Casey looked down at the rivulets of blood running down his chest, staring at them in fascination. He loved the way the bright red contrasted that of his pale Irish skin. He loved the way it marred it… he didn’t deserve unblemished skin. He didn’t deserve to be clean. Why should he groom himself when he wasn’t worth the water?

Numbly, he raised the blade again – when he was in his zone, he didn’t even need to think about handling it. He could do it without thought, years of practice bringing mastery. And even though he hadn’t done it for so long, it came back to him like riding a bike.

He brought it across his chest again, cutting in line with his rib cage. That way, once the scars had healed, they would be slightly hidden.

He’d learnt early on – when he was a fourteen-year-old, trying it out in the bathroom for the first time as his parents argued downstairs – that hiding his pastime was important. No where anyone could see. His arms were out for that reason – a close shave being when the schoolyard bully tore his shirt to expose his cuts. He’d tried his thighs… but the same bully tearing his pants down and calling him a fag had put a stop to that.

So, Casey had found a place almost no one ever saw.

He took a breath and lowered the blade again, realizing that he needed to stop fairly soon, or he’d be dizzy from blood loss.

_And then Kelly might find out, and then he’d kick you out…_

“Last one.” He whispered to himself, relaxing once again at the release.

But then, without thinking, he lowered the blade again.

* * *

Severide groaned as he hauled himself to his feet, shutting off his phone alarm and chucking it back onto his bed. He ambled out of the room, stumbling into the open plan living space… and seeing the TV on.

It was on some trash program. The only reason Casey was likely to be watching that is if he fell asleep, so Severide crossed and leant over the couch.

But Casey wasn’t there.

Severide frowned. Surely Casey would have turned the TV off if he decided to go to bed. He was conservative with such things – Severide knew it related to his time in the system after his mum had shot his dad. And the time he’d spent at the academy – living in borderline poverty as he struggled to pay his way.

Starting to get anxious, Severide headed his way to Casey’s bedroom, poking his head in and seeing the bed untouched. Severide frowned, before concern overwhelmed him.

The only other place Casey could be was the bathroom – if he had felt sick and had ran from the couch…

Worried about his friend, Severide lightly jogged to the bathroom, but paused at the closed door. If Casey was throwing up, he’d probably want some privacy.

So, cautiously, he knocked.

* * *

Casey was about to run the blade down his chest again, aware that he was reaching his limit. Most of the cuts had stopped bleeding – he knew how to cause himself pain without doing any real damage, one of the benefits of being EMT certified – but his chest was still coated in a thin layer of the sticky stuff. He knew his habits well enough to deal with the aftermath… a hot shower would get rid of the blood – _and sting the cuts –_ and a tight singlet would hide anything that snuck through, as well as reduce friction and stop them reopening. Worse case was slipping a bandage below the singlet – but Casey thought he had no need for that.

Just as he was lowering the blade to the base of his rib cage – _where he could wriggle to send pain spiking through for a while –_ he jumped at the knock at the door. His heart jumped into his mouth, freezing like a deer in headlights.

“Casey?”

_Oh, no. No, no._

Casey’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, unable to respond. He was sitting, shirtless, covered in his own blood, razor blade in hand… what the hell was Severide going to think when he opened the door?

The door handle jiggled, “Casey? You okay?”

Casey heard his voice, but didn’t even realize he was speaking, “I’m okay, Severide. Don’t come in.”

The jiggling stopped, and he could almost see Severide’s expression, “You sure you’re okay, buddy?”

Again, Casey could hear his voice, not thinking about them, not realizing he was saying them, “Yeah, I’m good. I’m not wearing clothes – was going to take a shower.”

Severide was slightly surprised at Casey’s blunt words. So much so, he almost opened the door.

But surely overcrowding Casey wouldn’t help.

“Alright, bud…”

Reluctantly, Severide let go of the handle. He heard the shower flick on, and slowly backed back down the hall.

_Something’s not right._

* * *

Severide was putting the finishing touches on lunch when Casey thudded down the stairs. He glanced up, seeing Matt dressed in comfortable joggers and a hoodie, hair still wet. His hands were in his pockets.

Trying to go for a light atmosphere, Severide dropped two plates onto the table, “Hey, you’d tell me if something were wrong, right?”

Casey looked at him, before nodding, “Course.”

Severide continued to stare at him, “So, is something wrong?”

Casey longed to talk to him, to ask for help, to beg for support. He could actually see a future if Severide were there, if Kelly could just hug him, just let him lean on him. But it was a delirious dream – there was no way it would end like that. Because why would Kelly care? Why would anyone? He wasn’t worth it. It would be easier to just leave him. And Casey totally got that.

But, some part of him wasn’t ready to jeopardize it all yet.

So, Casey continued to stare at him, before shaking his head, “No. All good.”

Severide took a breath, looking Casey over, trying to work out how to call him on his bullshit. He could practically see Casey building up his walls, barricading his thoughts.

“Casey, if you _were_ okay something would be seriously wrong. You’ve been through a lot in these past months… no one would be surprised if you…”

Severide trailed off, not sure how to continue. If Casey what? If Casey was considering… what? The thought had flashed through his mind, that his brother was struggling _severely_. That his brother was at the end of what he could deal with… but that thought had terrified Severide, and he’d banished it to the back of his mind straight away. Casey didn’t _struggle._ He’d already suffered so much in his life, and he was still fighting. Nothing could break Casey – _nothing_.

Casey was still looking at him, even expression on his face. His own thoughts were racing – could he give in to Severide? Bite the bullet, and ask for help? Severide had made an effort to ask him, now. But at the same time, he knew that there was no way his brother expected so much to be so wrong. Casey frowned, conflicted, which Severide took as a sign of annoyance. Quickly, backtracking, Severide amended his earlier statement.

“No one would be surprised if you were tired, Case.”

Casey felt his heart sink. Indirectly – and through absolutely no intent of his own – Severide had shut him down. There was no way Severide was ready to hear the full of Casey’s issues, no way he wanted to.

At least, that’s what was running through Casey’s mind.

Trying to bite back his tears, the Captain turned back to Severide, nodding, “I am tired, Severide. Stressed. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

There was some truth in that sentence, and even though Severide got the impression he wasn’t getting the _full_ truth, he got the feeling it was reserved for another day. Slowly, he nodded, “Casey, I’m here for you. If you need anything… don’t hesitate.”

Casey blinked back his tears, nodding. He tried to take a snapshot of the words, so he could hear them again when he needed to. Even though the context wouldn’t be quite the same, he hoped Severide’s words would unknowingly help him out of a dark spot.

_Even though you don’t deserve it, Casey…_

* * *

After they had lunch, Casey retreated to his room, claiming to be looking for apartments. Severide had told him he could stay for as long as he wanted, but if Casey was going to get control of his mental health again – something he _wanted_ to do – he needed the privacy and the control. Because that was the only way he knew how to do it.

_The only way that involved breaking down completely during his 48 hours off. That involved being anyone but a captain, that allowed him to be his true self._

But as soon as he’d got there, he’d flung himself face-down on the bed and closed his eyes. His head still hurt, and he didn’t want to think. He couldn’t be bothered. Everything seemed like an uphill battle and he wanted it to be over.

His mind was a mess – Casey didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to _give up_ everything he had, but it was getting too hard to fight it. He knew that asking for help would actually make a world of difference, but not wanting to burden anyone over powered that thought. Plus, he did genuinely think that Severide would leave him, then he would have nothing.

He was aware that he was at a critical point – he had decisions to make here. He _knew_ that giving into his thoughts would only make it harder to climb back out, but he was pushing hard as it was. He’d caved earlier, something he knew he would now find more difficult to deny himself again. The shit storm that had just hit him was too violent, too wild, against the weak foundations he’d built himself up on.

_You could just give up, Casey. Save yourself the time…_

Blearily, he rolled onto one side and slipped a hand up his shirt, fingers running over the lines on his chest. He took a deep breath, liking the way the scabs moved against his fingers. Reminding him he was human, he could bleed. Somewhere, in all the numbness and pain, in all his hours hiding as _perfect_ _Captain Casey,_ he forgot that.

Closing his eyes, Casey decided to give in for the day. He was beyond tired – of fighting, of trying to be okay, and hopefully he could justify this nap to Severide as a post-concussion rest.

_If the guy cares enough to check on you._

Finally, finally, Casey gave himself up to a dreamless sleep.

So he was already dead to the world when Severide poked his head in and carefully checked his friend over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next thing I update will probably be the one shot about Casey, after that... I dunno. I didn't plan on having two multi-chapter fics going at the same time (especially given that Here for You is now a wee bit longer).


	7. All I knew is Upside Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't know that was how this chapter was going to end until I wrote it... but man am I glad. 
> 
> The sausages and mashed potatoes are an Aussie dish we call 'bangers and mash'. There's probably nothing even vaguely original about it but I mean shhhhh

Severide virtually held his breath as he checked Casey over – he had absolutely no doubt that his friend was fine concussion-wise, but knew he’d kick himself if he missed something.

Casey was breathing fine, complexion was fine. When Severide stuck two fingers to his wrist to check his pulse – he was fine.

Just as Severide started relaxing, calmly pulling away from Casey’s inert frame, he spotted something. Peering closer, he frowned.

_Is that blood?_

His heart skipped a beat as his gaze shot back up to Casey’s head – he knew about the skull fracture, Casey had revealed it to him on that day on the docks, and he knew the risks associated with it. But was it still affecting Casey after all these years?

He checked Casey’s nose – no signs of blood. Then, gently tilting Casey’s head side to side, he checked each ear – no blood.

Frowning now, Severide’s mind struggled to create another scenario. If Casey had been injured in the fire – aside from the concussion, that is – he had no doubt that he would try to hide it. He preferred to deal with things on his own, after all. Severide’s eyes expectedly surveyed Casey’s form, checking for where blood might be seeping through. When his check found nothing, Severide realised he might have to try to dig beneath the covers.

_Damn, Casey won’t appreciate being grouped in his sleep._

He momentarily considered just leaving it, but an overwhelming sense that something was wrong pushed him to keep going. Gently, he pushed the covers down, ready to check Casey over.

As soon as he’d pulled them down, he could see where the blood was coming from. From the angle Casey was lying at, his lower rib cage caused a budge in his shirt. And on top of it, was a small amount of blood.

Severide frowned. He’d been injured in that exact place more times than he could count. It was a vulnerable place, just because of how the bones sat. He wasn’t surprised that Casey had an injury there, nor was he surprised that Casey had concealed it. There’s no way he would have shown anyone, and there wasn’t anything Sylvie could have done anyway.

But something was still niggling at him. Carefully, he felt over it through the shirt – aware that if pain were a factor he might wake Casey – but it didn’t seem to be swollen and certainly didn’t seem broken. He was sure Casey had just knocked it.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, though. So, feeling like he was intruding on his brother’s privacy, Severide gently took the hem of his shirt and lifted it.

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

He felt his stomach drop as he took in the sight – the long lines running along his rib cage. Pulling Casey’s shirt higher, he saw that they extended all the way to his armpits.

_No, no… what the hell?_

Severide knew the cuts weren’t from the explosion, they were too perfect. Almost surgical.

Self-inflicted.

But Casey wouldn’t do that… Casey wouldn’t cut, right? He was a Captain in the CFD. People like Casey didn’t do that. Something else must have happened.

_Like what, Severide?_

Kelly could feel his mind racing at a thousand miles per hour. Casey had harmed himself. Casey had harmed himself.

_Casey had harmed himself._

He felt the nausea set in as he realised Casey was in a bad place. In a seriously bad place. That everything he had thought until this point had only been denial.

_Casey had harmed himself._

The cuts looked fresh and he realised Matt had only just done it. The realization made him sick, that Casey had done this in his own house, while he’d been here, and he hadn’t even noticed. Casey had taken something, and _consciously_ maimed his own skin.

_I’m so sorry, Case._

He took another look at Casey’s scars, this time peering closer and noticing the old marks.

_Casey’s done this before._

He felt close to tears as he gently pulled Casey’s shirt back into place, before covering him again with the sheets. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, before abruptly dropping it as Casey stirred.

“… Kel?”

Casey’s half-asleep state only made him seem more venerable, and Severide felt his chest tighten further. Casey’s eyes were barely open, lazily finding Severide even as he faded back to sleep.

“Just checking on you, Case.”

Casey’s eyes shut, and he moaned, “M’good, Sev.”

His heart sank as he realised it couldn’t be further from the truth. But Casey was resting, and as much as he wanted to bring it up, to ask Casey about the harm, he knew it was just a selfish desire wanting an explanation. Wanting reassurance. Desperate for Casey to tell him it was all okay, a misunderstanding. And then they could laugh about it.

But Severide knew it wasn’t a misunderstanding. This was serious. Casey was calm; and bringing it up would only throw him into a world of panic.

Besides, the guy needed his sleep.

He barely managed to croak out his next words, wanting nothing more than to dive on Casey and bring him into a hug, “I’m here for you, Matt.”

Casey seemed to already be asleep, only humming at Severide.

As Casey dropped back off, Severide remained by his side. He took in each of Casey’s features – he always looked so young. He had always been clean shaven, the young age he had been promoted to Lieutenant demanding that he maintained his appearance. Severide had been lucky in that regard, as he had been promoted after serving at 51 and had already gained the respect of his team. But poor Matt had to justify himself being there, justify that he had command. And it hadn’t been easy for him, at first – Severide knew that for a fact.

_Casey never has it easy._

Severide sighed, his thoughts racing. He had no idea how to get through to Casey. Did he just bring it up? And what; scare the shit out of Casey? Or did he just drop self-harm into a conversation… but again, how would he do that in a way that seemed natural?

_Besides, Casey will just close off if he can._

Severide found himself racing through a thousand different scenarios, none of which ended well for Casey. Jamming his eyes shut, he tried to think about what he could do, who he could talk to. Casey clearly needed help, but he didn’t know the extent of his friends… depression? If that’s what it was.

He didn’t know if Casey were already talking to someone, _though_ , he mused, _it’s unlikely Casey would see a shrink._ He also knew how taboo a subject mental health was within the CFD, and Casey was a decorated captain. Getting someone else involved wasn’t his call. It was Casey’s.

_So, where the fuck did he get help?_

Deciding that the internet would be a good place to start, Kelly watched Matt for a moment longer – after what he’d just discovered, he was reluctant to leave his brother alone, but he knew Casey wouldn’t even notice. Deciding to get his phone and come back, Severide reluctantly left Casey’s side.

He had the piece of mind to bring his portable charger, because after a long shift his phone was almost always flat. Climbing over Casey, Severide crawled into his bed. He didn’t think Casey would mind – in their academy days, when he, Darden and Casey were living together, they had spent many nights crashing in each other’s beds. Usually after they had drunk too much and had all passed out together. There had been a few occasions, though, after a rough call, or a deep discussion, where they had only found comfort in each other.

Looking back, he realised Casey had always been fairly quiet during those discussions, and he wondered how far back this depression reached.

He got himself comfortable, because he didn’t plan on leaving any time soon. Casey had remained asleep, something Severide was grateful for, quickly opened the browser on his phone.

Then he was at a loss for what to type. He didn’t know how to word his questions – how the fuck did he word something like that? How did he put such a huge issue into a single sentence?

Plus, searching it made it more real.

_But it is real, this is real._

Severide felt vaguely nauseous as he searched self-harm. He had no experience, and felt he needed a general overview. What was going through Casey’s head was a mystery, but he hoped to God that someone out there had already written something to help him.

But as soon as the results popped up, Severide felt sick. Most of the headings seemed to be aimed at teenagers.

_Damn, I can’t deal with this. How would a kid?_

Severide finally clicked into a result, holding his breath as he scanned the page.

But it didn’t fill him with much ease.

_Self-harm can be a way for a person to feel something when experiencing numbness or to distract themselves from depression or anxiety._

Severide momentarily locked his phone, dropping it to his chest. This was too much. Was this what Casey was feeling? Was Casey constantly numb, or depressed? He angled his head over to the sleeping blonde, wanting to pull him into a hug and never let go. Casey didn’t deserve it. Casey was perfect – so kind. Why was this happening to him?

Sighing, he squeezed his eyes, before deciding to bite the bullet and continue his research.

_There is a link between childhood trauma and self-harm, such as physical, emotional or sexual abuse, or even growing up in a home where negative feelings are not validated or are frowned upon._

Matt was always very secretive about his childhood. He was like that on purpose. But Severide had heard enough about Gregory Casey to know that Matt also fitted that description. Plus, the guy’s mum had killed his dad… Severide didn’t need any further confirmation to know how shit Casey’s early life had been.

_Often, people who self-harm are their own harshest critics._

That too, was Casey all over. Even if no one else faulted the blonde, Casey would always be critically going over his actions.

There was a link to the correlation between major depressive disorder and cutting, and Severide tapped it. He was conscious that he couldn’t diagnose Casey – that he was in no way an expert, but he wanted to at least have an inkling to what he was dealing with.

And damn did his heart only sink further as he scanned the words. Casey fitted most of the signs of depression – _not going out, withdrawing from family or friends._ But some of these things had been going on for a very long period of time – how long had Casey been suffering?

Severide shook his head, he wanted to believe that it was just due to stress, that Casey hadn’t had time to come to Molly’s. He was just going through a stressful time. His house had just burnt down. And before that, his wife had left him.

And before that, Bria. And before that…

Severide grimaced. It was all way too convenient, he knew he was just trying to justify it to his own mind.

_Casey cut himself. He’s not alright. He has depression._

Severide had to take another breather, turning to stare at Casey. His hair was messy, blonde strands falling into his eyes. Slowly, holding his breath, Severide leant forwards and brushed his hair back. Casey leaned into his touch, and Severide felt a sob work its way to his throat. He spent a few minutes trying to bite back the tears, to hold them back. But he felt lost. _This can’t be happening to Casey._

Casey sighed in his sleep and rolled over, one arm flopping down beside Severide. The contact brought Severide back to his goal – to help Casey.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy to bring up the subject of self-harm with Casey, because Casey was so damn independent – and defensive at times – that he had no doubt his brother would lash out. And the internet confirmed it – _your friend may lash out. This is because most people who self-harm feel ashamed or are worried what you might think of them ­­_ – so he knew that he’d have to be prepared to not let Casey run.

And if it meant copping a fist to the face, so be it.

Severide spent the next couple of hours reading stories of people who had confronted their friends about self-harm. Again, most were teenagers, but a few were adults, and Severide would take any help he could get. Someone might have that _one line_ that would help him get through to Casey.

Just as he was reaching the end of a thread, Casey stirred. He let out a slight moan, frowning across to Severide, “What the hell, Sev?”

Kelly shrugged, pretending that he hadn’t been awake the past couple of hours, pretending he didn’t know his little brother had been harming himself, pretending that he wasn’t about to have a conversation with Casey that would change their relationship forever.

“Fell asleep checking on you. How’re you feeling?”

Casey frowned again, “Fine. Not concussed anymore.”

Kelly nodded. He wanted nothing more than to continue the conversation, but he had read that having the conversation in a neutral place would be beneficial to Casey – there weren’t emotions tied to it and Casey wouldn’t then be spending every night trying to sleep there. So, he grinned as he told Casey he was going to cook something up for dinner.

Every second that Casey was out of sight, Severide’s stomach churned in anxiety. He had no idea what Casey was doing… was he in tears? Was he hurting himself? He had no idea, and it unsettled him.

By the time Casey actually came down the stairs, Severide had prepared sausages and mashed potato. He noticed Casey had changed his top but didn’t comment on it, serving up the dinner in silence.

Casey was quiet and subdued, so Severide led the conversation. Some people had talked to their friend about memories before bringing it up, others had just had general conversation. Some had dived right in, and he’d found that most of those had regretted it.

As much as he’d wanted to talk to Casey about the past – memories with Andy, Hallie and happier times – he knew that it would arouse suspicion, and he was so confident Casey would react explosively he didn’t want to give Casey any reason to feel as though his trust had been betrayed.

They were just about finished eating when Severide decided it was time. Somehow, Casey had relaxed over the course of the meal, and even though Severide knew he was about to destroy it, he knew it was the perfect time.

“Casey?”

Matt looked up at him, “Hmmm?”

“You know I care about you, right?”

Casey tensed, and for a moment Severide wondered if he’d said the wrong thing already. But slowly, Casey nodded.

Severide was at a loss for what to say next. He’d expected Casey to be yelling by now and had prepared a speech to get his brother to listen. But Casey was listening. And even seemed… hopeful?

“I don’t think you’re alright. And I’m here to support you… but I think you’re really struggling.”

Casey’s eyes were filling with tears, but he’d blinked them back. He looked up at Severide, taking a slow breath, “I’m not okay.”

Well, Severide didn’t expect _that._

“Kelly I have depression and I self-harm.”


	8. Origami Flexing from the Heat

Casey’s mind was racing as he stared at Severide. He’d actually said it, he’d caved.

 _He was weak_.

He could feel nausea rise in his stomach as he watched Severide, waiting for him to laugh, to start mocking him. Maybe, just maybe, he would think it was a joke, then he could stay here and continue to hide it.

But he’d have to be a lot more careful.

Meanwhile, Severide was just staring at him in shock. He’d been so prepared for anger that Casey’s confession threw him.

The usually calm and collected Truck Captain was nervously pushing food around his plate, eyes filling with tears, expression unreadable. Severide knew he had to say _something_ to ease his tension, but nothing was coming to him.

_Think, Kelly, think._

Suddenly, Casey was standing, excusing himself, telling Severide he’d be gone within the hour. Severide jumped up, holding Casey’s shoulders and staring at him, still at a loss of what to say. They stared at each other, the situation entirely alien.

But one look was enough.

Next thing they knew, tears had started running down Casey’s face and Severide had brought him into a hug, burying Casey’s head in his neck. Matt’s body had started shaking with sobs, and Severide eased them onto the ground, taking the full weight of his brother. Casey continued to cry, almost unable to breathe as he let it all out, and Severide gently soothed his brother, telling him it was alright.

“C’mon, Casey… let it out… let it out…”

Casey’s thoughts were racing, trying to work out what Kelly was thinking, why he was being hugged.

_Kelly doesn’t care about you, why would he? You’re worthless, good for nothing. Severide just feels sorry for you…_

And with those thoughts his cries continued to grow more intense. He hated being pitied, it meant he was weak. And here Kelly was, pitying him.

It had been bad when it was random adults after he’d been put in the system, but coming from someone he admired was ten times worse.

But despite that, Casey was desperate for the comfort.

He had a hundred different thoughts and feelings flying around his head, and it was exhausting. So, Casey continued to sob, leaning into Severide and clutching him desperately. Briefly, Severide wondered if Casey had already planned on telling him, if Casey _wanted_ support. He’d only expected rejection.

_Huh, serves you right for assuming._

At the same time, it made him feel woefully unprepared. He really had no idea what he was doing… was this even his place? But who else could Casey turn too? He at least needed to try.

Casey’s cries were slowly easing, and he pulled back from Severide. But Kelly kept a firm hand on his shoulder, not wanting him to pull away, or run.

“Sorry, Kelly… sorry…”

That was something he possibly expected, “You have nothing to be sorry about, Matt. I’m glad you told me – “

Casey shook his head, “I’m sorry. I can be gone in the hour… sorry, Kelly. Sorry…”

Severide frowned, “Where are you going? Why?”

Casey gaped at him, “To get out of your hair… you didn’t want this…”

Severide firmly shook his head and tightened his hold on Casey’s arm, “No, Matt. I want you to stay. I want to help you get through this.”

Resisting the urge to scoff in disbelief, Casey shook his head. Kelly was lying. It was the only reasonable explanation. He was tense and had started to pull away, so Severide only held on tighter, “Casey, please. I want you to stay. I want to help you. Please.”

He looked as though he was about to protest, so Severide tried again, “Casey, I already knew about the self-harm. I saw when I was checking you over.”

Casey looked at him in shock, about to say something. But Severide wasn’t done, “I was trying to work out how to bring it up. How to tell you – “

But then Casey’s expression morphed into one of anger, and Severide realised he was going to get the reaction he expected, after all. Perhaps he should have accepted Casey’s admission and pretended he didn’t know? But he dismissed the idea as soon as it had popped in his head. He needed Casey’s trust.

“You had no right!”

With frightening strength, Casey pulled away, stumbling back. He was livid, and Kelly suddenly wished he had locked the front door before starting this conversation.

“Case – Matt.”

But Casey was shaking his head, moving away from Kelly in despair, “You had no right to do that! You had no right!”

He was babbling now, and Kelly realised what was coming next. They all had training in this – extensive training. Mental health, while taboo in the CFD, wasn’t something the academy brushed over. Well, wasn’t something the academy brushed over when it related to _victims,_ as far as Severide was concerned it didn’t teach much in terms of the firefighters’ health.

Dealing with people who were on the brink – of a panic attack, of suicide – was dangerous, both for any victims involved as well as the firefighters. Casey was frantically looking around himself – the options were flight or fight, and it seemed Casey had chosen fight.

“Matt... Hey, Matt, It’s okay – “

“It’s not fucking okay, Kelly!”

Severide didn’t approach him – at that moment, Casey’s mind was working like that of a wounded animal, and Severide was the threat. With an aurora of calm – which he was struggling to maintain – Kelly put his hands up, bringing his arms into his body to appear smaller. Matt was still pacing, fists balled up and bouncing on his heels.

“Alright, I’m sorry, Casey. Why don’t we just talk?”

He realised it was perhaps the wrong thing to say – Casey had the same training as him, and knew it was a ploy to calm a victim down. That was the final push Casey needed as he lurched towards Severide, fist flying out and catching him painfully in the cheek. Severide brought his hands up, palms spread in a submissive position, but it wasn’t needed. Casey’s eyes widened in horror as he realised what he’d done, mind all to abruptly crashing back into his body.

_You did that. You hurt Severide. You monster._

“Sev… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

Severide didn’t respond, slowly reaching out a hand to Casey. Matt continued to murmur apologies, voice broken, and vocalized a few times that he could be gone within an hour. Severide knew what was coming next, and again edged closer to Casey.

“Sorry… I’m so sorry, Kelly… sorry… I’ll go…”

Severide moved forwards, catching one of Casey’s wrists. Casey only pulled away for a moment before moving closer, and Severide quickly brought his body into his. He eased them back to the floor, pulled Casey onto his lap and expertly took Casey’s fingers and rested them on his own pulse point. The human contact – Casey feeling Severide’s rhythm against him – would slowly calm him. Gently he rocked his brother, struggling to maintain his own composure.

Doing this with a victim was one thing, with Casey it was a whole other.

Casey was still shaking ten minutes later, but at least his breathing had stabilized. Half an hour after that and Casey was no longer trembling. Severide took it as a win, gently easing Matt’s head back against his shoulder. Casey was half asleep, the panic attack, anger and breakdown having drained him of every ounce of energy he had left – which Severide suspected wasn’t much.

Slowly, Severide stood them up, arm wrapped around Casey as he moved them towards his bedroom. Casey made no effort to respond as Severide put him in the bed, covering him with blankets and sitting beside him. Casey’s eyes opened, and he stared at Severide for a moment, before murmuring an apology.

“S’alright, Case, just sleep.”

Whether or not Casey wanted to sleep, his eyes drifted shut. Kelly waited until he was confident Casey was dead to the world before sighing.

_How on earth was he going to help Casey?_

* * *

Severide didn’t move away from Casey’s side, partly from worry that Casey might wake up and harm himself while he was away, partly from the inability to even fathom leaving Casey alone. It did occur to him that Casey would need – and want – privacy throughout all of this, but he had no idea how to balance that. Plus, he knew that the privacy Casey wanted and the amount he needed were likely to be two very different things.

He did more internet research, relieved that Casey’s reaction wasn’t astronomical. Most people seemed to have found that their friend had mixed emotions to being found out – but the good thing was one of Casey’s emotions had been relief – and it seemed that the initial reaction was generally the most prevalent feeling.

Besides, Casey had come to him and Severide had no doubt that was a good thing, now he just needed to stop Casey pulling away.

He was reading recounts of people who had been on Casey’s end and how they’d felt after having a similar discussion, when Casey stirred. Severide quickly locked his phone, glancing up at his younger brother.

Casey’s eyes were open, staring vacantly at Severide.

“Why are you here, Severide?”

There was no spite to his tone, no energy whatsoever, and it made Severide’s heart clench.

“Matt, I want to help you.”

Matt sneered at him, “What, so you can add me to your rescue list? Hold it over me?”

Severide didn’t respond to that. If Casey’s mood was going to be up and down like a rollercoaster, he knew he’d have to pace himself. This was going to challenge his patience in more ways than one, and there were only so many responses he could give without sounding like a broken record.

Sure enough, Casey’s expression eased, dropping back to the wounded one he’d seen earlier, “I don’t understand why you would want to help.”

Severide bit back his tears, knowing there was only truth in Casey’s words.

“Casey, I care about you. And you’re pretty damn awesome.”

Casey scoffed. If he had tears left, they would have pooled in his eyes. But he was drained, of everything.

“You’re wrong.”

Severide shook his head, moving to sit beside Casey, grateful when he didn’t move away, “No. I’m not. I want to help you, Matt. I really do. And you’ll get better.”

This time, Casey’s eyes did pool with tears, and he turned away slightly. But otherwise he hadn’t physically – or verbally – rebuked Severide, and for now that was a huge win.

“I don’t really know what’s best, Casey, I’m probably going to need your help. But I’m here, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

Casey looked back to him, confused, but accepting. A few stray tears dripped down his cheeks, and Severide leant over, wrapping an arm around him and allowing a few tears of his own to stray down his cheeks.

Severide knew – from his research, from his own common sense – that Casey would be up and down for a while, pushing him away then pulling him in, but he vowed to stick around no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finally got it together and updated! I'm going to aim for weekly updates... 
> 
> key word... aim...


	9. No History to Follow Back

Casey ended up napping for the next hour, still tired from his panic attack. Severide was worried that he was sleeping to avoid reality – but even he had to admit the last 48-hours had been rough. Well, rough was an understatement.

When Casey woke again, he was quiet and subdued, only mumbling responses when Severide initiated conversation. Yet, surprisingly, Casey stayed by his side for the entire day, barely leaving Severide alone for a moment. Severide didn’t care – if it was what Casey needed then he was more than happy to provide it.

He was eager to have a proper talk with Casey, one where he could actually get to the bottom of some of the questions bouncing around his mind. But he knew that Casey needed to initiate it. It was rough, he wanted nothing more than to know what was going on – and while he knew it was a selfish desire, he was looking for some form of assurance, some form of comfort regarding Casey’s condition. The reality is that he wouldn’t get it, but he could hope.

He was considering whether to ask Casey about the cutting… he obviously had blades _somewhere_ , and Severide was uncomfortable with the idea of Casey continuing to use them. But surely asking them could be a breach of trust – Casey needed to come to him.

 _Besides,_ thought Severide, _he’ll always find something._

They had shift the next morning and Severide had offered for them to both take it off, clear their heads after a bad call and Casey’s head injury. But Casey had declined, pointing out he needed the distraction, “besides, Sev. It’s not like I haven’t worked through this before.” (and didn’t that just pull at Severide’s heartstrings).

But as the hours ticked by, Casey remained stubbornly by Severide’s side on the couch, not moving an inch. It was almost one a.m when Severide sighed. He knew they needed to sleep, or they’d both be wrecked for shift.

He turned to Casey, “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

Casey paused, and Severide could see the wheels turning in his head. Quickly, Severide reassured him that he was happy to do it and watched as Casey fought down the urge to be ‘perfectly fine’ and become defensive.

Slowly, surely, Casey nodded, eyes flooding with tears. Severide got up and squeezed his shoulder, happy Casey was at least being open for the time being because he knew how much harder it would be if he wasn’t.

 _When_ he wasn't. 

As they got ready for bed, Kelly was reluctant to leave Casey for any period of time, worried it would depress the blonde, that the thoughts would manifest in his head if he had no distraction. Though when Casey had come to changing his shirt, he hadn’t been able to stay in the room and had excused himself to get his toothbrush.

Casey watched him go, blinking back tears. S _ee you’ve freaked him out._

Severide rejoined him, and Casey didn’t let on that he’d been upset by his departure. Instead, once he was finished brushing, he rinsed his mouth out and looked at Severide through the mirror, “I’m not gonna break if you leave me alone.”

Severide froze, had he already over crowded him? He thought this was what Casey wanted, “I’m sorr- “

“But I appreciate it.”

Severide nodded, not really knowing what else to say. Slowly, Casey trailed off and went back to his own room, and Severide debated whether or not to follow him. But he got the feeling Casey was coming back.

Sure enough, Casey ambled back in, holding his hand out.

And Kelly’s heart stopped.

In his hand, were two silver blades.

Casey dropped them into Kelly’s hand, and Severide felt dirty for touching them. If it weren’t for the anxious look Casey was giving him, he might have thrown them just to get them away from him.

But instead, he forced himself to nod at Casey, doing his best to give him a reassuring expression.

“Thanks.”

It seemed stupid, but he really didn’t know what else to say. As he also looked at them, he wondered where they had come from. Casey had asked him for a razor before shift…

Unless…

“These from Cindy?”

Casey nodded absently, and Severide realised that there must be at least one other blade somewhere. There was no way that Cindy had bought him a two-blade razor. He honestly didn’t even know if they were sold anymore.

Still, he put them carefully in his pocket. If he could continue to build the trust, Casey would hopefully hand the other one over.

“I don’t always want to cut… and usually before I do I don’t want to… but I need to.”

Severide felt his stomach lurch, he was really having a hard time listening to Casey like this. But there was no way he could show that.

“Okay. I want to hide the other sharps, is that okay?”

Severide cringed at the stupid question. It was like asking an addict if they wanted you to hide their drugs. But surprisingly, Casey nodded.

Because even if he was an addict, he was a smart one. And one wanting to recover.

“There’s actually another one.”

Severide nodded, “I know.”

Casey frowned up at him, agape, and Severide realised it had been a test, “You knew?”

Severide only nodded again, “Case, I know there’s no point in pushing you… I mean, I know there’s times where I might have to encourage you, but this does need to happen on your time. I mean, I can’t just fix you… I know you know that. I want to help, I want to do everything I can… I don’t really know how to explain it. The internet said this is the best way – “

Casey frowned, “The internet?”

Severide felt stupid, “Yeah, Matt. I’ve been doing research…”

Casey’s expression made Severide want to bundle him into a hug. He looked totally confused, “…why…”

“Because I want to help you, Casey. I’ll repeat it as much as I need to.”

Casey only shook his head, still in disbelief. Slowly, Severide embraced him, giving him every opportunity to pull away, but Casey melted into it and murmured into his shoulder, “I want to get the other one… but… it’s the one I… used…”

He could feel Casey’s body tensing and rubbed a hand up and down his back. He quickly weighed up his options, trying to think of all the possible scenarios, if anything would set Casey off.

“I can go get it?”

Slowly, Casey nodded against him, “Please…”

Severide avoided the temptation to hold Casey for longer, “Ok, in your room?”

Casey nodded, telling him that it was in the same place as the others, in the drawer, but he hadn’t been able to touch it.

_Maybe not a test then._

He left Casey in the bathroom, going to his bedroom and trying not to cry as he picked up the blade Casey had hurt himself with. Trying not to look at it, he quickly moved back into his room and threw them in his safe. He also dashed back to the kitchen, collecting what he could up before returning and hoping that Casey couldn’t find something else.

Casey was still in the bathroom when he returned, knees drawn up to his chest. Severide could hear his snuffling, but before he could offer any words of comfort, Casey had wiped his eyes and was standing.

“You don’t have to stay with me.”

But Kelly could hear the longing in his words, “I kind of want to, Case.”

Matt accepted it with so much ease that Severide knew how much he was hurting, how tired he was and how desperate. He felt his heart rip into shreds again and couldn’t help but clutch at Casey as the blonde rolled towards him.

* * *

The next morning, Casey’s mood had flipped like a switch. Severide had been awoken by Casey slamming the door, and the captain had refused to speak to him during breakfast. Then Casey had left without him – but Severide wasn’t bothered. Space would be good for the both of them.

Once Casey was at the house, his mood changed again, and Severide was amazed at how ‘fine’ he was able to act. He was quick to excuse himself to his office, sure, but his interactions beforehand didn’t seem an inch from normal.

Which either told him Casey was a great actor, or that his depression spanned a much greater duration than Casey had admitted. Or both.

Severide slipped Casey a note at one point – saying he was there if he needed him. When he checked back in, Casey had put the note in his draw, somewhere he could see it the moment he opened it. He’d responded positively, and Severide made a mental note that it would get through to Casey.

It had been a busy shift, with truck and engine being called out independently for the whole day. It wasn’t until mid-afternoon that all three companies were called to an apartment fire. The fire itself was no big issue, but the events after it were what spun Casey.

Herrmann and Kidd had obviously not sorted out their differences and were still arguing about the suicide call. Which, given everything that had happened with Casey, Severide had completely forgotten about.

Casey, as captain, had command, but Severide did his best to keep the three away from each other. Somehow, by some miracle, he managed, but as soon as they got back to the house everyone filed into the common room and sat around.

And it didn’t take long for Kidd and Herrmann to continue their argument – which was now going past the point of the suicide call – and Severide was just about to step in to stop them when Casey walked into the room.

Just as Herrmann said the mother was worthless and better off dead.

He had seen Casey’s face pale, seen the truck Captain retreat into himself. Casey quickly backed out of the room, beelining back to his office. Severide was about to follow him into his office, to check on him, but decided to give him a break before invading his space.

But five minutes later, the bells rung. And the events that followed meant Severide would regret his decision for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now, the fic is gaining speed... I mean I'm learning quite a bit about writing doing this (including that writers hate everything they do lol). 
> 
> Next update is where things get really intense for poor Casey.


	10. Life Flashed Before our Eyes

As soon as Casey reached his office, he drew his blinds before dumping himself in his chair and covering his face.

_I can’t do this._

Herrmann’s words were chipping away at everything Severide had told him, crumbling everything to the ground. Herrmann was older… more experienced.

_So Severide must be wrong._

Casey’s head was spinning, and he dropped it to the desk. Automatically, one of his hands moved under his shirt, following the scabs and scratching at them, only satisfied when he felt blood sticking to his fingers. He couldn’t understand what was happening, who was giving him the right information. He so desperately wanted to believe Severide, but maybe he was just wrong? What if he was wrong? What did it mean about him?

If Severide was wrong, then his father had been right…

_Of course, dad had been right._

Casey felt his stomach clench, and he had to tighten his jaw to not throw up. He felt physically ill and wanted nothing more than to be able to hide. Hide from the world and his very own existence.

Then a dreadful thought occurred to him.

Maybe…

Maybe Severide was in cahoots with Herrmann. And they were going to laugh at him.

He felt sick.

Casey opened his drawer, looking at the note Kelly had written him. It was mocking him. Teasing him for being unable to cope. How could he not have seen it before?

_What have I done?_

Casey took it, scrunching it up and tossed it across the room. It bounced underneath his bed, and Casey’s hand shot to his face, clawing at his eyes.

Maybe he could still come back. Play it all off as though it was a prank on Severide. As though he was in on the joke as well.

_Yeah, that was a good idea._

Before he could formulate a plan of how to go about it, the bells rung. Casey could barely hear them, his mind moving through honey, and he found himself numbly stumbling towards the truck, pulling his pants on without really thinking.

He climbed in, aware Otis was looking at him with concern. The truck captain was beyond pale.

“You okay, Captain?”

Casey wasn’t even aware of his response, mumbling something that only increased Otis’ concern. He felt Stella’s hand on him but paid it no mind. If he’d looked at Mouch he would have seen an expression of utter shock. He stared out the window as they arrived at the scene, jumping out and doing his job on autopilot.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Otis trying to get the Chief’s attention, but he couldn’t hear his words. Everything was ringing, he was in a trance. He heard himself barking an order – though couldn’t make sense of it – and repeated it when Otis didn’t respond. Reluctantly, Otis stepped back into line. He ordered Stella to stick with him, and if he’d listened, he would have heard her reassure everyone that she’d keep an eye on him. Squad made their way up to the top floor, Truck and Engine dispersing between the first and second.

Despite the thoughts banging through his head, despite his self-hate and self-doubt, Casey was a professional. He could manage his team and himself and didn’t have any issues as he became hyper-aware of his environment and the dangers it held.

So when Boden’s order to evacuate came through, he was surprised when he turned and saw Kidd’s position.

She was too far away from the wall.

He called out to her, but she seemed to not hear him.

And the world seemed to slow down as the floorboards started creaking beneath her.

He shouted out again, before at lightening speed moved towards her.

And pushed her out of the way, just as the boards collapsed.

Casey’s weight sent him through the floor below, and into the basement. He landed roughly, his tank forcing all the oxygen from his body. Automatically, he inhaled, and chocked as smoky air invaded his lungs.

* * *

Squad had just finished sweeping the top floor when Boden’s order to evacuate came through. They made quick work of leaving the building, and Severide was standing outside before he realised something was wrong.

Kidd and Casey should already be out.

He stared at the building, watching in horror as Boden shouted into his radio. But no one came out.

Suddenly, smoke puffed out from the windows, and Kidd’s voice yelled out over the radio.

“Mayday, mayday, Casey’s down.”

Severide felt his blood turn cold, pulling on his mask and helmet before Boden even had the chance to order Squad back in. He felt relief as he saw Stella stumbling out – though the blood on her arm concerned him momentarily – and he and the rest of Squad moved into the building.

* * *

Casey watched as the ceiling spun in front of him, moving in ways it shouldn’t be. His PASS alarm was ringing, and he was acutely aware he should try to get up, but he couldn’t build up the courage.

He inhaled again, this time gagging on the smoke and dust. His ribs protested the movement, and for the first time Casey noticed the debris around him.

_Shit._

His awareness must have wavered, because the next thing he felt was more debris landing on his legs, chest. He cried out – this was what pain felt like – and opened his eyes, seeing that the ceiling he’d been looking at before had gone.

_Huh?_

Casey’s pain addled mind struggled to process what had just happened. Flames were flickering at the edge of his vision, or maybe his vision was fading in and out? He really had no idea.

Voices cut through his radio, but he couldn’t understand them. They sounded broken, disjointed, and had a crackling effect – was his radio even working?

Casey’s eyes closed again, trying to drag his recent memories forwards and work his way out of here. If he could figure out why he was here, maybe he could figure out how to get out. Then everything would be fine.

His PASS alarm was still wailing, and he hoped for a moment that it would turn off. The sound was hurting his head, and he needed some peace and quiet to work out what was going on.

He took another breath, and his lungs protested violently, sending him into a wracking fit of coughing. His vision blacked out, and so did his hearing, but he could still feel the agony he was in.

Slowly, the coughing ebbed, and Casey’s reeling mind found itself wondering why he was here, in the dark, alone.

He was scared.

Memories started to flash back through his mind, ones from his childhood, hiding in a cupboard when he’d broken a plate, waiting for his dad to come home and punish him. Hiding from bullies at school. Being pushed into the basement without food when he’d explored his sexuality.

His own inner hell took over, sending Casey spiraling further into the darkness that surrounded him. His recent memories crashed back into his body, and Casey felt a stab of dread.

_Maybe this is for the best._

Casey watched as the fire closed in around him, the flames licking him. And he waited. Waited for them to lick away his life, to taste it then move on within seconds, forgotten. But that’s all he was to this fire. That’s all he was to this world.

He wasn’t worth anything. Nobody would morn for Captain Matthew Casey, because he _had_ no one.

His eyes were drifting shut. He’d been given an easy out. A line of duty death. No one would question it, and he would be celebrated as a hero.

His last fleeting though as his eyes drifted closed, was that he didn’t deserve it.

_“Casey! Hold on!”_

* * *

Severide had followed the sound of Casey’s alarm eagerly, knowing that if Casey was down and not moving, it was bad. He’d had Capp bring the backboard, Cruz following along with a tank and oxygen, Tony bringing up the rear with fluids. He didn’t want to be caught out, didn’t want to miss the opportunity to keep Casey alive.

His adrenalin fueled him so much, that he didn’t even stop to consider the possibility that Casey was already dead.

The sound of Casey’s coughing cut through the din, and Severide couldn’t help but wince. It sounded dreadful, he knew that Casey likely had internal bleeding, could hear it in the wetness of the cough. But it didn’t slow him down. His brother was in need and was relying on him.

Once he’d actually reached Casey’s fallen frame, he felt his heart stop. Casey was buried in rubble, clearly unconscious, blood seeping out of his turnout gear. His mask was cracked, and Severide could see he was barely breathing.

“Cruz! Get the oxygen on him. Tony, start pushing fluids! Capp, with me.”

_“Sharp scratch, Captain.”_

His men quickly fell into line, working to extract Casey from his prison. Once Casey had the oxygen mask over his face – as it provided a higher flow rate then their SCBA gear – and the cannula was inserted, Tony and Cruz started assisting Severide. Kelly kept an eye on Casey, hoping the fluids and oxygen would stabilise him and that he would wake up.

They were still working on the debris when Casey groaned, and Severide felt a surge of hope. Quickly, he leant over him, rubbing his sternum and eliciting another groan from the truck captain.

“Sev’ride?”

Kelly grinned, despite his overwhelming worry, “Yeah, buddy. We’re going to get you out.”

Casey mumbled something that he couldn’t quite catch, and Severide directed Cruz to sit over him and try to keep him conscious.

Severide knew that, despite their medical intervention, Casey didn’t have long before he needed a hospital. Anxiously, he looked back to Cruz who was speaking to Casey in an attempt to keep him responding.

“Lieutenant, he’s in too much pain… he’s delirious…”

Severide turned to Tony, “How much morphine’d you give him?”

Tony glanced back up, “Five mg, Lieutenant – “

Kelly looked back to Cruz, speaking more harshly than needed, “Give him another five.”

Joe nodded, knowing Severide didn’t mean anything by his tone, and quickly emptied another syringe into Casey’s cannula.

Casey relaxed slightly, continuing to stare at Cruz. Gently, Cruz leant back over, telling Casey about some new equipment he was hoping to get for fifty-one. He had no idea how much Casey was processing, but the Captain tried to keep his eyes open.

“Okay, get this one out of the way… Capp, have the backboard ready to move him…”

_“Shit, look at his legs…”_

_“Don’t worry about it! Just keep working.”_

Casey continued to stare up at Joe. He was too out of it to understand what was happening, too pain-ridden and faint from blood loss. The sight of the men so familiar to him offered comfort, knowing that they would protect him.

_“Get ready to roll him. Cruz! Watch his head…”_

Casey’s thoughts started getting more jumbled, struggling to continue. Anxiety swirled but hearing his men around him offered some form of comfort.

_“Three… two… one…”_

Just as he was calming down, absolute agony shot through his body. He could hear himself crying out, and the only emotion he was aware of was betrayal.

_My men did this to me? Why?_

Casey’s addled brain couldn’t process any more, and his eyes drifted shut as he passed out.


	11. Bent Beyond Ability to Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ahahhahhHAHAHHAHAHAH
> 
> Also, this fic will (should) get another update on Wednesday AEST. Then, it will continue to be updated on Sundays AEST.

Severide sat in the waiting room, along with the rest of fifty-one. He had tried pacing, but it hadn’t helped with the anxiety. He had tried yelling at the hospital staff, but that hadn’t helped either, and only had Boden cross with him. He’d almost tried crying, but with his brothers around, he was desperate to avoid it.

Once they’d extracted Casey, the full extent of his injuries had been revealed as they’d carried him out and into the ambo. Brett had been concerned – and cross at how much morphine Severide had given him – as she had quickly begun assessing him. His upper legs were a mess, as was his pelvis. There were obvious breaks to his hips and some internal bleeding. It was clear that the situation was critical, and that Casey didn’t have long before he needed a trauma surgeon.

Just as Brett was giving it to Severide over the dose of morphine he’d given Casey, she’d started cutting away Matt’s top. But Severide had stopped her, begging her to go into the ambulance. She’d given him the death stare to end all death stares, but agreed and slowly pushed Casey in.

She had been surprised when Severide leant over and closed the door but shrugged it off and continued to cut away Casey’s top.

And she quickly understood why.

It had been hard to see the cuts with the rest of the damage to Casey’s chest, but they were there. She had struggled to maintain her composure, especially given that Casey was lying venerable and unconscious, but professionalism allowed her to shrug it off and focus on his – not self-inflicted – injuries.

Severide had held his breath the entire way to the hospital. Sylvie had said something about his injuries being serious, but that they were making good time and Casey’s pre-hospital care had been excellent. He should be fine. And Severide found himself wondering what that term even meant.

As soon as they’d arrived at Med, Casey had been raced into surgery for a laparoscopy, and Severide had quickly avoided Brett’s gaze as she tried to get his attention. He didn’t want to tell her what was happening, couldn’t be bothered and didn’t want her to know.

_Besides. Casey will come out of surgery, and he’ll be fine. Then he’ll come home with me, and get happier, and he’ll be fine. This will all be over._

He knew his own words were rubbish, but he couldn’t bear to think of any other outcome.

They’d all been sitting there since. Given the severity of Casey’s injuries, Boden had taken the house out of rotation, and no one had thought to leave the waiting room for a moment. Stella had come back – and Severide felt guilty when he realised he hadn’t even missed her presence – after getting a few stitches to the cut on her arm. Apparently, when Casey had pushed her, she’d flown into a cabinet and it had sliced right through her turnout gear. Severide had no idea how a situation like that had even come to pass, and he was tempted to march over to Stella and get her two cents, but the look Boden was giving him let him know if he did, he wouldn’t be allowed in this waiting room for much longer.

Stella and Brett had started talking – along with the rest of Truck – and Severide was straining his ears. If Brett said anything about his self-harm… Boden be damned he was going to have something to say.

_“No… Casey wouldn’t say that… surely you misheard?”_

_“What? All of us misheard the exact same thing? He wasn’t right before the fire…”_

That was it. Severide stood, moving over to Truck and looming over them. He could see Boden watch him out of the corner of his eye but paid him no mind.

“Is there something I should know?”

They all looked up at him, and Otis and Mouch seemed to retreat into themselves. Stella glanced to Brett, before looking back to Severide.

“Maybe we should go out into the hall, Lieutenant.”

Kelly didn’t even have it in him to feel lost at Stella’s use of his title. He hadn’t even thought about his relationship with Kidd. He supposed he should feel bad about that – he knew she was taking it hard – but it wasn’t his priority. Casey was.

They trailed out into the hall, away from prying ears, and Severide turned to her, “What is it, Stella?”

Kidd looked miserable, and for a moment Severide regretted his harsh tone.

“Casey… said something on the way to the fire.”

Severide froze. There was no way he’d admitted to something. No matter what state of mind he was in, he wouldn’t do that.

_Surely not._

“Casey said… he’d be better off dead…”

Severide’s blood ran cold. Casey couldn’t say that. Casey couldn’t think that. If Casey were thinking that…

Stella seemed to be waiting for a response, so Kelly shook his head, “What did Brett say?”

That clearly wasn’t what she was expecting, and she frowned, “What do you mean? She was worried…”

So, Brett had kept the self-harm a secret, at least. Kelly thanked his lucky stars, knowing he should talk to Brett soon.

“Okay… and what happened in the fire?”

Stella sighed sadly, and Severide could see she was fighting tears, “We tried telling Boden… Casey looked out of it. But he ordered us in anyway… I said I’d watch Casey… and I was… I swear… but I wasn’t watching myself…”

He could see how hard Stella was taking her failure, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry anymore. He sighed, “It was an easy mistake to make, and you were in a difficult situation… it wasn’t your fault, Stella.”

Kidd’s eyes widened in gratitude, but she shook her head slowly, “If I had paid more attention…”

Severide honestly didn’t know what to say. He was lost – he didn’t want to see Stella blaming herself anymore. And even though he knew it was partially her fault – _what kind of firefighter stands in the middle of a room?_ – the guilt she was holding was in no way helping the situation, no way helping Casey. Perhaps Casey shouldn’t have been in the blaze, there was an argument that he was the one at fault.

So he decided to tell her a downright lie, “The situation wasn’t ideal, you were given a tough one. Casey will be fine, you’ll see.”

_Physically, at least._

For a moment, Stella looked as though she was going to call Severide on his lie. But she didn’t. She nodded, and they moved back towards the waiting room.

* * *

Kelly’s head was resting against the wall, eyes closed. He was far too overwrought to sleep, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t exhausted.

There hadn’t been any news on Casey for the past hour, which wasn’t helping with his anxiety. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were about to come out and announce that they’d lost him on the table. After his chat with Stella, Boden had come to sit beside him. Severide hadn’t wanted to talk, but it was nice to feel Boden’s fatherly presence beside him.

He was drifting through different scenarios in his head when he felt Boden squeeze his shoulder.

“Kelly.”

Severide opened his eyes, seeing Halstead standing in the doorway. Everyone else had already stood, eager for an update on their captain.

But Severide’s heart clenched as he noticed Charles standing behind Halstead. There were two possible reasons he might be there, and while one – Casey being dead – was unthinkable, Severide knew the other – they’d worked it out – was just as bad.

Will did his best to offer a reassuring smile, seeing he had everyone’s attention, “Casey pulled through the surgery with no complications…”

There was a collective sigh of relief – at least Casey was alive – but everyone got the sense there was more to be said.

“Debris had crushed part of his small intestine. We had to remove part due to the damage. He’ll take a while to get back to his usual diet, and possibly need a low-fiber one for the rest of his life. The damage caused extensive internal bleeding, so we’re still transfusing him, but he’s reacting well to the transfusion so far. He also had fractures to his ribs, painful, but not serious.”

Severide could feel his heart sinking. Despite Halstead’s generally positive outlook, and the knowledge that Casey’s injuries were unlikely to be fatal, he knew that they would crush Casey in a different way. He knew the pain of fractured ribs well, he knew what being unable to eat normally would do to Casey’s morale.

_Damn, this is going to be hard._

But then Halstead offered the final blow.

“Finally, Casey suffered extensive fractures to his pelvis – to both his left and right hip. His left side is worse. We’ve plated the worst of the breaks, but he’ll need a lot of physical therapy to get back on his feet… there’s also damage to his upper legs, fortunately not to the bone – but that will slow down his physical therapy, as he’ll be unable to weight bear.”

Severide felt as though he’d been thrown in the ocean without a life raft. There was no way Casey was going to get through this. Will hadn’t said anything about Casey returning to duty, and Severide knew that meant it wasn’t a definite at this point. And he knew that would destroy Casey.

Hallstead was saying something else, but Severide was lost in his own mind.

“Severide?”

Kelly glanced up, seeing that Will was looking at him. Charles was watching him as well, and he realised that Halstead had been waiting to speak to him.

“Sorry… yeah?”

Halstead jerked his head, motioning down the hall, “Can we speak to you? You’re Matt’s medical proxy.”

Slowly, Severide nodded, rising to follow them down the hall. He felt Boden’s hand clap his back reassuringly, and saw Brett’s hyper-concerned glance, but he still felt as though he was in a trance.

* * *

He found himself sitting in the meeting room in the ER, facing Charles and Halstead. Goodwin was also there – which scared him – and he could see April hovering by the door.

“Where’s Casey?”

Halstead wasn’t bothered that he’d already told Severide back in the room. He knew that Kelly had fazed out after hearing about Casey’s injuries, and he knew that meant Kelly knew something.

“He’s still in recovery. When he’s moved to the ICU, you’ll be able to see him, assuming he gives his permission.”

Severide frowned, defensive, “Why wouldn’t he?”

This time, Charles spoke up, “I suspect you already know the answer to that one, Kelly.”

Severide glared at Charles for the use of his first name, though Daniel knew it was more about the subject at hand than anything else. Still, he made a note to back off.

“And what’s that supposed to mean? Case is fine.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows, “I never said he wasn’t. Lieutenant, if you know something, telling us will make it better for Casey.”

Severide’s jaw tightened, “Telling you won’t make it better for Casey. It will make it worse.”

Will cut in, “So there is something?”

Severide stood up, quickly becoming unnecessarily aggressive, “Whether there is or there isn’t, I don’t have to talk to you.”

Charles raised his hands in mock surrender, prepared to work his magic “Okay, you’re right. You don’t have to talk to us.”

Will watched in shock as Severide slowly sat down. He was still sending fleeting glances around the room, but at least he wasn’t so worked up.

“I’m not here to hurt Casey. I’m here to help him, just like you are.”

Severide was losing his resolve, “Then fix his physical injuries and he can come home with me. That’s how you can help him.”

Charles made eye contact with Severide, “I understand, Kelly. And it’s fantastic Matt has such a great friend. But with Casey’s injuries, it’s going to be a lot harder. You’re both going to need support.”

Severide stilled. He knew Charles was telling the truth, “But if you make things official, it sends up red flags within the CFD.”

Charles nodded, “I understand. But as it stands – “

Suddenly, Halstead and Charles’ pagers started going off, beeping in manic tandem. They both glanced down at them as they stood. Severide looked to them in anxiety, “What is it?”

Halstead was already walking away, but Charles did his best to offer him a smile, “Sharon, can you look after Kelly –“

“No. What’s happening, is it Casey?”

But Charles was already gone. Severide jumped to his feet, moving to follow them out. He felt a hand on his back but twisted away from it.

“Casey?!”


	12. The Ground Below is Crumbling

The first thing Casey was aware of was how airy everything felt. He was floating, a gust of air holding him up and dipping and spinning beneath him. The oxygen making its way in and out of his lungs felt too light and was tickling under his nose.

He couldn’t think, his mind drifting as much as the air – _ground? –_ beneath him. It was making him vaguely nauseous, but before he could finish that thought another one had taken hold.

_Where amI?_

He wanted to open his eyes, but they remained stubbornly shut. But before he could get frustrated, his mind had drifted again.

_Why am I here?_

He tried to think that through for a moment, trying to remember what had just happened, how he’d ended up floating. People didn’t float, last time he’d checked, people couldn’t float. Was he the first person to be able to do it? How did that work?

It was a relief, for a moment he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders. But then he drifted again, and he found himself wondering why he hadn’t tried this before.

Suddenly, another sense returned to him, and it was sound. There was a steady, constant beeping to his left, and a constant whistle to his right. The logical part of Casey’s brain told him he was in the hospital, but the rest of his body refused to listen.

_What’s… why - ?_

He dropped back into unawareness for a bit, glad to not have to think, not have to function. But then became grotesquely aware of pain. His hips were both throbbing, and he felt as though there was a knife in his guts. The beeping returned, faster this time, and he felt something squeeze around his arm.

_“Captain, can you hear me? Matt?”_

_“Matt, we need you to wake up.”_

_“Give him the morphine Halstead ordered.”_

_“Pushing two of morphine.”_

_No._ The unfamiliar voices didn’t offer him any comfort, and Casey moaned in protest. He felt something fiddling with the cannula in the crook of his elbow, tugging and pulling. It was nothing compared to the pain in his hips, but it was also grounding him from the floating feeling, pulling him back towards the rocks beneath him.  

_What?_

He collided with them abruptly, crying out at the pain. The physical pain. The emotional pain. He became bitterly aware of where he was, and how he’d got there. He remembered his conversation with Severide, he remembered overhearing Hermann’s words. He remembered wanting to die.

He remembered not dying.

He tried again to shout out, to rid himself of some of the energy building up in his chest. But he could feel his body shutting down, the blanket of darkness closing in. And he hoped he’d never emerge.

_Please. Please._

He was only aware of darkness for a moment, darkness and silence. Briefly, he wondered if this was what heaven was like.

_Don’t be stupid, you’d never get in to heaven._

But he could hear voices, Chicago accents, bringing him back to reality. Maybe he was dead, and this was just hell? Or purgatory? Maybe he wasn’t alive. Actually, life would be his only hell.

_What?_

_“He’s coming too again.”_

Casey moaned when he realised that he was still alive, and that he was still in the recovery room. He was in considerably less physical pain, but the emotional pain was still suffocating. Blearily, he opened his eyes, confirming his worst fear.

_I’m at Med._

_No, no, no._

The beeping to his left increased, and Casey felt his blood run cold.

_I can’t be alive._

_Oh, no, no, no, no._

Even through the meds, he could feel someone squeezing his hand, rubbing his shoulder. But he couldn’t think of anything else other than the fact he didn’t want to be here.

_Why did my men do this to me? Even they don’t think I deserve to die a hero._

_“Captain! Matt! I need you to relax…”_

But Casey couldn’t. He shifted again – pain spiking through his hips and making his vision black out for a moment – and he tried to push the invading hands away. He was feeling along his arm, trying to find something.

_Why couldn’t they just let me die?_

_“Page Doctor Halstead and Charles…”_

_“Matt, we need you to calm down.”_

He was struggling to find his goal, but finally, he felt the long, thin plastic of his IV. He could feel more arms on him, grabbing his wrists and pushing him into the bed, but he still had the tube in his hand. He could feel someone trying to pry it from his fingers, but another tug and pain laced through his arm.

_Success!_

Despite everything, he managed a drunk smirk, allowing himself to be restrained.

_“Pulled his arterial line out… gauze! Stop the bleeding.”_

_No. Let it keep going…_

He started struggling again. Maybe they would leave him alone soon, then he'd bleed out, and everything would be fine.

He didn't even care that he hadn't died on duty.

_“Matthew, it’s okay, we need you to calm down, you’re at Chicago Med...”_

But he already knew that. It was exactly what he was upset about. He didn’t want to be here. He could now smell his own blood, feel it soaking the sheets.

He managed a scream as the hands pressed him into the mattress, guttural and chilling. He tried to kick his legs, but absolute agony shot through them.

_“Charles!”_

_“What’s happened?”_

_“Woke up in a panic, ripped his line out, with intent…”_

_“Give him one of ketamine…”_

_“Charles – “_

_“I want to talk to him.”_

Casey continued to thrash, animalistic cries leaving his lips. He felt the needle go into his arm – now that he’d pulled his line out, they couldn’t administer intravenously – and his movements became slower and less coordinated. Then he lost the strength to continue thrashing, and he felt limp on the bed. He continued to force weak and broken sounds out of his lips, and they quickly deteriorated into sobs.

_Why do I have to be here? Why couldn’t they have let me die?_

A nurse leant in, gently pressing Casey’s arm to stop the bleeding. Casey tried to move away, but a firm hand was all that was needed to restrain the once strong truck captain. Charles felt his heart clench at the sight. Even being an emergency psychiatrist, even being in a position where he saw children climbing up the hospital rooftop, Charles felt sympathy for the firefighter. He hated seeing the strong this low, hated seeing them when they fell. He did know what Casey was going through and knew how much it took to bring someone like Casey to his knees.

“Matt, my name is Doctor Charles. Can you hear me?”

Casey groaned, letting out a slurred sentence that Charles didn’t quite catch. Another nurse walked back in with the soft restraints, starting to secure them to the bed. Casey didn’t seem to realise, not responding to them in any way.

“Sorry, what was that, Captain?”

Casey turned his head towards Charles, directing a spiteful glare at him. Charles wasn’t bothered, he’d been given much, much worse. Still, it was no use talking to Casey if he was still worked up. He motioned for Halstead to leave him for a moment, also telling the nurses to back off and give him a moment to breathe. Casey wasn’t thrashing, so they realistically had a while before they had to secure the restraints.

Casey’s body had relaxed into the mattress, not having the strength nor will to keep fighting. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head with each blink, and his breathing was slowing down to a much less panicked level. Charles had no doubt his sats would start dropping, but he’d face the battle of getting a mask onto Casey later. He didn’t want to risk upsetting him before he’d got a chance to speak to him.

But despite that Casey was now calm, tears were still making their way down his cheeks.

Seeing Casey’s state – and rapidly categorizing it in his head – Charles leant forwards, “Matt, you’re at Med. You’re in recovery. I have Doctor Halstead here to speak to you.”

He nodded to Will, who stepped forwards, knowing he’d have to reiterate everything Charles had already said, “Matt? You’re at Med. You’re in recovery. You were in an accident. Can you remember what happened?”

Casey didn’t answer, blinking again as tears tracked down his face.

“The surgery was successful. We stopped the bleeding and repaired the damage to your abdomen. We fixed the damage to your pelvis – “

Will stopped at the look Charles was giving him, _don’t blanket it._

“You’ll be on a liquid diet for a while, and you’ll require physical therapy for your pelvis.”

Casey only sobbed again, turning his head away. Charles put one hand to his shoulder, but Casey quickly jerked away. Slowly, Charles nodded, “Okay. We’ll see you soon, Matt.”

Casey made no effort to confirm he’d heard either doctor’s words, closing his eyes against the tears as they continued to make their way down his face. Charles stood back and watched as the nurses secured Casey – and he made no effort to pull away – but watched as he jerked his head away from the oxygen mask. He made a mental note, before turning and motioning for Will to follow him back to the ER.

* * *

Charles and Will walked down the hallway, neither needing to speak to know what the diagnosis was. As soon as Casey had woken up further, he would be moved to the ICU where he would be heavily monitored. Though Charles would usually recommend a patient like Casey to the Elizabeth Rhodes ward, Casey’s other injuries were still too severe. He would have to be kept in the ICU with a psych hold and checks every five minutes. It wasn’t ideal, Casey wouldn't be able to get the best treatment for his depression while he was so injured, but at that time, Casey's injuries were the most critical. It was the best that could be done for him. Once Casey was medically stable – and healed enough – Charles would re-assess if he needed to be sectioned, and from his experience, Casey would be.

They took a moment to stand outside the ER, knowing the upcoming conversation would be hard. As soon as they were through the doors, they would no doubt be inundated with questions about Casey’s well being, and the answers they had weren’t the ones that were wanted. Technically, they only had permission to talk to Matt’s medical proxy, and knowing Severide, that was going to be as easy as squeezing blood from a stone.

Halstead looked to Charles, “What do we say? I mean… how do you…?”

Will had more than enough experience sharing bad physical news, telling patients they were terminal, telling mothers they had lost their sons, but he’d _never_ been in on a conversation where he was telling someone that the person they cared about was suicidal and depressed.

Charles sighed, “If you want, I can handle the conversation with Kelly – “

“No, I’m Matt’s surgeon. I should be there as well.”

Daniel was impressed at Halstead’s willingness to go out of his comfort zone, he knew it was why he was such a good doctor. Casey’s situation was unique, and one tough for any doctor.

“Well, let’s go and do it. But Kelly will likely be abrasive – try to leave that to me. If he’s getting aggressive, the slightest thing will be able to set him off…”

Halstead agreed, knowing that Charles wasn’t demeaning him in any way. Firefighters weren't easy patients, and frankly, he didn't want to be on the other end of a fist. Allowing a shrink to handle the conversation was definitely favorable.  

No sooner had they re-entered the ER, Kelly was standing in front of them, begging them for an update. It was clear he had been crying, and April was hovering nearby behind him.

“Is Casey okay? What’s happened? He’s not in surgery… what’s going on?”

Will was confused, but Charles was faster, “He’s okay. There were no complications with his procedure. Perhaps we can step back into the consult room? We do have a fair bit to discuss.”

Kelly huffed, but nodded. Daniel noticed that he was becoming more resigned. He clearly knew – at least some – of what was happening with Casey, and Charles hoped that it could help him get to the bottom of a little more. At this point, any context would be great. He didn’t even have a background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then... interesting few days. Apparently, when power poles get too old, they just spontaneously combust? Because that's what happened in out backyard XD So nice 2 AM visit from the fire department! 
> 
> I wish I had had time to ask them questions about firefighting, but burning stuff... so... they were kinds busy XD Really nice people tho. (Although when they got out with SCBA on we realised we were breathing in some serious toxic stuff haha). 
> 
> I did find out that I am a nosy neighbour XD


	13. The Fire Spread

Severide sat down, mind still torn as to how much to tell them. He didn’t even know what was happening – surely Casey had woken up from surgery and done his best to hide everything, like he had done at the firehouse? He couldn’t nor wouldn’t think of any other scenario. Casey hiding it was the only option, the only acceptable answer in his head. But then why did Charles want to speak to him? How much could he say – and what if he burnt Casey’s trust? Was this just about Casey’s physical injuries, or was there more too it?

Charles sat down directly opposite to him, and Will leant against the wall. And that answered most of Severide’s questions – this discussion wasn’t about his injuries. It was a psych discussion.

Kelly couldn’t take it a moment longer, “What happened?”

“Matt woke up in a panic and was upset at where he was. We had to sedate him, as he pulled out his arterial line. He’s in soft restraints for now but will be re-assessed once he’s more aware.”

Charles gave Severide a moment to let that sink in, knowing that he’d be overwhelmed with any information given to him. As Severide was processing it, Charles watched him carefully. Kelly was clearly shocked, but he could see that some part – a part he had likely been trying to repress – wasn’t surprised about Casey’s state.

“Once he’s more aware, he’ll also be moved to the Intensive Care Unit, where he’ll on a suicide watch. Again, that will be reassessed after seventy-two hours, but because Matt will be in the hospital for a while longer with his injuries, he’s likely to remain on a hold.”

Severide still didn’t react, thinking Charles’ words through.

“I know this is hard to hear – “

Kelly shook his head rapidly, “You can’t put Casey on a suicide watch.”

Daniel raised his eyebrows, “Matt is in a very vulnerable place. He – “

“You can’t put him on a psych hold. You can’t institutionalize him. He can’t be a firefighter if he’s been sectioned.”

Charles wasn’t entirely sure about Severide’s statement – he didn’t know enough about the Chicago Fire Department’s regulations to know if Kelly was telling the truth. But he did know that the CFD tended to be very archaic. Still, he doubted that they could mandate against someone coming back after being sectioned, the US Federal court of Law would no doubt have something to say about it.

“Kelly – “

But Severide was desperate, “Please. The only hope Casey has is if he can work towards everything going back to normal. Too how it should be.”

His voice was filled with sincerity, and Charles knew he had his friend’s best interest at heart, “If you take that away from him, he’ll never be okay. He needs this.”

Kelly sent him a pleading look, also glancing back to where Will was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed in front of him.

But Charles wasn’t going to relent. Back in the days he’d owned his private practice, he’d learnt the hard way what could happen when things were improvised. And he knew Captain Casey wasn’t going to be an easy patient. As much as Severide wanted to make this better, he didn’t have the experience to see how hard this was going to be. He was in denial, thinking that this could all be fixed with a cup of tea.

But Charles could see how genuine Severide was, and he knew that would – ultimately – go a long way in his recovery, “As much as I appreciate that, Kelly, he’s – “

Kelly shook his head again, slamming his hands to the table, “Then I want another opinion! Casey doesn’t need a psych hold. You’re wrong. I want another opinion…”

“I’m more than happy to get you a second opinion, Kelly, but I’m telling you. You’ll get the same answer.”

Kelly tried again, prepared to lie for his best friend. He’d try anything to save Casey, “Casey’s never harmed himself. He’s never been a danger… what happened in the fire was an accident.”

Charles nodded. He knew to hear Kelly out, let Kelly say what he needed to say. It didn’t matter if Kelly insulted him, didn’t matter if Kelly was downright wrong. He needed to be heard.

“Okay. I do understand what happened in the fire was an accident. I value that. I do. But when Casey woke up, in his panic, he pulled his arterial line out with intent.”

Kelly started shaking his head, marginal at first, then rapidly. Charles felt his heart sink. He’d just loaded Kelly with the information that his best friend had tried to end his life, “No. No, Casey wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, Kelly. But that’s what it looks like – “

“Maybe you’re wrong? Maybe he just panicked…”

He was no longer downright negating the psychiatrist, only trying to justify it to himself, trying to dins another reason. And in that moment Charles really felt sorry for the guy, “I am truly sorry, Kelly. Matt isn’t in a position that he can be released, or not be under a watch. I don’t know how Matt is going to react when he’s more aware, but for now, he is in a really vulnerable position.”

Kelly stared down at the desk, slowly nodding. He knew Charles was right, knew that Casey didn’t have other options. As much as he hated it, he knew that there wasn’t a way around it.

“But he won’t be able to continue firefighting…”

Charles put his head to the side, “I’m actually not sure about the regulations, but I think the CFD would have a hard time blocking someone from returning to work because of depression. Usually, a company could mandate he needs continuous psychology, but barring him from work? They would have a hard time with that.”

Severide ran a hand through his hair, and Will decided not to tell him that Casey’s return to work was still reliant on his physical injuries.

“Can I still see him?”

Daniel nodded, “He hadn’t indicated otherwise. But he’s also still in recovery… in the meantime, you could help us. We’ve seen the self-harm, we have his medical records, but wanted to know anything else that might help us…”

Severide slowly nodded. He was worried about Casey getting upset with him, but at the same time, Casey couldn’t be upset with him if he wasn’t alive.

So, he leant back as he prepared to tell Charles about Casey’s life, about how his dad had been emotionally abusive, and then his mother had cracked and shot him. How he’d then become a ward of the state and been bounced around group homes, all the while blaming himself for his father’s death. How he’d been living in poverty with an abusive land lord when he’d started at the academy, until he and Andy had brought him in. How Andy had then died in front of him, and how he’d terrorized Casey over it. How he dragged his fiancé out of a fire and rapidly did CPR on her until she was declared dead. How he’d had to take time off to clear his head. He told them about Casey’s brain injury, about his (multiple) brushes with people trying to kill him, the miscarriage, Gabby and her manipulation, how Gabby had left, then how his house had burned down, and his new fling had left at the drop of a hat. He admitted their conversations, how he'd confronted Casey on his cutting, how Casey had asked for his help. 

Charles listened to the whole ordeal with a mild expression, Will listened more in horror. Severide, for the first time, realised how much shit Casey had been through. He wanted to hug him, but the knowledge he was too damaged for even that hurt.

By the time they were done, Kelly was exhausted, and rested his forehead across his arm on the table. Charles could see how spent he was, and quickly sent a nurse to check on Casey’s status.

“It’s likely that Matt’s been moved to a room. Technically, visiting hours are over, but we can get you in to see Casey, if even for a moment.”

Severide nodded and turned his head as a nurse came in and confirmed that Casey had been moved to the ICU and was sleeping. She asked to speak to Charles, and as much as Severide wanted to know what they were going to talk about, his desperation to see Casey won out.

Halstead motioned that they could go up together, as he was sure Severide would have questions about his injuries and gave Severide a brief warning that Casey looked bad. Then, they made their way up.

* * *

Severide hated the Intensive Care Unit. Too many memories of Casey’s head injury, and then Casey’s injuries after the warehouse fire. He only just realised that he’d never been in the ICU – although, he guessed he would have if there had been an ICU after the hospital bombing – but he was only thankful for a moment.

_Casey was here again._

Halstead stopped him outside Casey’s room, again explaining his injuries. He told him that the Truck Captain was extremely pale, and that he was being transfused. His right arm was bandaged where he’d ripped out his arterial line, and his left had bandages protecting the new one. There were burns on his neck, and arms, and they’d put a bi-pap on him until his breathing stabilised. Severide was scared, but slowly moved through the doors as Halstead held them open.

As soon as he was through, Severide felt as though his heart had stopped. Casey’s hips were propped up on a pillow, a frame holding the sheets away from them. He was lying slouched to the left side, face dwarfed by the mask that was secured with Velcro around his forehead. Bright red blood ran through tubing, into the new arterial line, and other bags hung over head, feeding him whatever other medications had been deemed necessary. Soft blue restraints were secured to his wrists, holding them close to the bed. Severide felt like being sick.

“Can he have the restraints removed?”

Will shook his head, “I’m sorry. Not until he can wake up without panicking.”

Severide nodded, strangely - because he didn’t think he would be agreeing with Casey’s doctors so soon - he understood. He was starting to realise that Casey needed more help. Slowly, as though moving too fast would upset the precarious balance in the room, Severide moved towards his younger brother, resting a hand on his cold arm and rubbing it absently with a thumb.

“We’re going to get through this, Case, alright? I’m not going to go anywhere.”

Only the constant two-toned whistle of the Bi-Pap and beep the heart rate monitor answered, and Severide wished Casey was awake to give him some response. He was aware of Halstead stopping nurses from entering, and knew he’d already pushed it by coming up here.

Slowly, he squeezed Casey’s hand again, turning around and moving back towards Will. The doctor gave him a firm squeeze on his shoulder, and Kelly allowed a couple of tears to drift down his face, not caring that someone had seen them.

* * *

Once Severide had left, Charles sat down once again and prepared to listen to the nurse. She was familiar to him – though they didn’t cross paths often – as she was the nurse that had once worked the old psych ward before the Elizabeth Rhodes wing had been opened, and she was often the one to work with suicidal patients who ended up in the Intensive Care Unit. Despite her experience, she never overstepped and always remained professional, perfectly following protocol, and he valued her opinion.

Linda didn’t mind her meetings with Charles, even though they always meant someone was in a bad place. Being from the psych ward, she was more than used to depressed patients, but it still pulled at her heart strings to know what someone was going through.

They exchanged pleasantries, brushing over the official hospital regulations to make sure they weren’t breaching privacy by talking to the wrong doctor about the wrong patient (something which made them both roll their eyes). Then, Linda got into her discussion.

She revealed that once Casey had woken in the ICU, he had remained totally silent, and remained unresponsive to all verbal instructions and comments. She had tested his physical responses to gravity, which had found he was not cataleptic, and did not have waxy flexibility. She could not, as a nurse, rule out catatonia, but Daniel knew that from her assessment alone that it was unlikely Casey was catatonic, and likely he was deliberately ignoring everyone. He was in two minds whether or not it was an encouraging sign, as Casey not being catatonic was a positive, but who knew how long the firefighter could keep up his stubborn act.

Charles nodded, “Was there any signs of psychosis?”

Linda shook her head, “Nothing I saw, but he was only conscious for a brief time.”

Daniel nodded again, “So no elated mood either?”

Again, Linda shook her head. Charles made a mental note to ask Severide if he’d noticed Casey experiencing high highs, but from the little he’d seen he thought he could rule out bipolar disorder as well.

He thanked Linda, asking that she tried to stay as close to Casey as possible. He’d make sure that she was assigned as his primary nurse and had no doubt that Linda would provide useful in Casey’s recovery. Linda was her usual timid self as the thanked Charles and made her way back up to the ICU.


	14. Standing on the Edge of Nowhere

As much as Kelly didn’t want to go home, he knew that they wouldn’t let him back into Casey’s room until he was conscious. He was worried about Casey waking up at night alone and restrained, but he doubted Casey would be all that lucid and either way he knew his presence wouldn’t be appreciated by the hospital staff. This early on, he wanted to stay on everyone’s good side.

He made his way back down to the ER, hoping that Daniel Charles would be willing to talk to him, but once he got there, he couldn’t see him. April made her way over, gently taking Severide’s arm and leading him to the exit, explaining that Charles had already gone home. Kelly was almost angry – how could he leave when Casey was in such a bad place? But he tried to remind himself that Charles needed to sleep as well.

April walked him out of the ER, back to the waiting room where the rest fifty-one had been waiting for so many hours. They’d all left now, knowing there wasn’t anything else they could do for their Captain and having to go back to shift anyway. All except Boden. 

Boden looked at his squad lieutenant and noted how pale he looked, as though he had just seen a brew of the most horrible things in the world. And in some ways, he had. Boden thanked April, and gently took Severide's arm, leading the numb man back to the battalion car. Severide didn't say anything, but as they pulled out of the Med parking lot he had an idea what was on his mind. 

He might not know everything that was happening in his house, but he had an idea, and had heard the Truck crew talking, “I suspect you aren’t going to tell me what’s going on with Casey. I think I have a small idea. But when you want to talk, we can talk.”

Severide remained silent, not wanting to give Boden any confirmation on Casey’s condition.

“Just so you know, I am all for supporting Casey through this. When he’s ready to come back to fifty-one, his spot is open for him.”

Boden had purposefully made his use of the word ‘this’ vague. He didn’t want Severide to speculate on what he knew, or to worry about his reaction to it. He also knew that Casey’s return to work was largely reliant on his physical recovery, and that that wasn’t set in stone at all yet.

“We’re all here for Casey. We all want him back on shift.”

Severide didn’t bother saying anything in response, only nodding as Boden pulled back into the firehouse. Boden explained he’d already called in two replacement lieutenants, and Severide was grateful that he wouldn’t have to go back into the house.

* * *

Once Severide had arrived at his apartment, he marveled at how quiet it was. Casey had only been there a short time, but he’d somehow warmed it up. Severide was already wondering how he would be able to cope with Casey’s absence.

He planned on going through Casey’s stuff, to see what he could bring to make Casey’s ICU room more homely. He knew that there would be regulations about what he could and couldn’t bring into the room, but at this point he didn’t care. From his earlier research – that felt like a lifetime ago – he’d read about psych wards and the benefit of having one’s own clothing, and even though Casey wasn’t on a psych ward, he thought it would still help.

But as soon as he got to Casey’s room, he realised something.

Casey had nothing.

He went through all of Casey’s clothes, trying to find something, _anything_ that was his and hadn’t just been purchased from Walmart, but there wasn’t much at all. There was a small box of soot covered items, but even as Severide looked through them his heart sunk. Other than Casey’s badge and a small trophy, there wasn’t anything worth bringing to Casey, nothing of sentiment. Briefly, he wondered why Casey had even salvaged some of these things, but he supposed he would have pulled out anything at all. Still, he picked out the journal, mug and a green bowl and set them aside, hoping to clean them and give them to Casey, they could at least pose as decorations.

His next stop was checking Casey’s actual apartment to check if he had missed something. Again, he doubted it, Casey would have spent ages going through everything, but he needed to check. Leaving the items on his kitchen bench, he hopped back into his Mustang and drove to Casey’s.

As suspected, Casey had already done a through job of going through his belongings, and Severide could see that almost everything was burnt. He took a moment to think about what the house meant to Casey. It hadn’t been his first since leaving the system, but everything was built from his own merit, all his work, and only then did he realise how heartbreaking it had been for Casey to lose it. He shook his head, and continued to look through Casey’s things, only finding a turned down photo of him and Dawson, and the remains of the blanket they kept on the couch. The blanket looked half salvageable, and he planned on getting Cindy Herrmann to look at it, and the photo of Dawson he kept for safe keeping, Casey might not be up to looking at it now, but he had no doubt he would want it in the future.

Severide’s vision was blurring as he made his way back to his apartment, and he knew he needed to sleep before going back to the hospital the next morning. But he also wanted to clean Casey’s stuff. He ended up filling a bucket with warm, soapy water and taking a rag, only managing to clean Casey’s badge before falling asleep on the table. 

* * *

Casey had slept through the night at Med, oblivious to the nurses checking on him every five minutes. He woke just in time to hear Linda entering his room, commenting on the good weather outside and opening the blinds. Casey didn’t turn his head to look, preferring to stare at the dirty spot on the ceiling. His mind was totally empty, he felt nothing. The thoughts that had been bouncing around and overwhelming him were gone, and he was surprised to find he almost missed them.

Linda was bustling around, straightening his sheets and making sure he was comfortable. But he didn’t respond to her, he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He knew he was being rude, she shouldn’t have to make an effort, but he couldn’t be bothered trying to think.

He didn’t care.

“I’m just going to change this bandage, Matt, then I’ll be on my way.”

Casey ignored her, ignored the sting of antiseptic and ignored her positivity that the burn was looking good, not infected. He continued to stare at the spot on the ceiling, hoping that she would leave soon.

Then she did.

Before Casey could be relieved, though, a head popped in and a voice called _‘checks’_. Casey only tightened his jaw slightly. They weren’t even going to leave him alone. 

He wasn’t really aware of time passing, not paying the nurses checking every five minutes anymore, he just continued to stare at the spot on the ceiling. He wasn’t even sure if he was drifting in and out of consciousness. He knew he was in the ICU, so he knew he was severely injured.

But he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He could vaguely remember Halstead saying something about his injuries, something about broken hips, but all he knew was that he. didn’t. care.

Casey heard Linda come back in, placing some liquid meal beside his bed. She removed one of his restraints and explained that the student nurse would sit beside him while it was off. He didn’t care, though. He couldn’t even build up the desire to look at it. He certainly wasn’t eating it. The student nurse sat there for a bit, then pulled out her phone.

But he didn’t care.

Linda came back and removed the meal and the student, re-securing the restraints.

He couldn’t feel _anything._

Some short time later, she was back again, telling Casey he had a visitor. Again, he ignored her, so she stated that she was letting him up.

Casey knew it was Severide without having to look, could hear it in the swish of his leather jacket, and without permission from himself, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

_Stop it, Casey._

Severide sat down beside him, seemingly unfazed by Casey’s lack of acknowledgement. A calloused hand landed on Casey’s arm, and Severide carefully rubbed it.

“Hey, bud. Heard you weren’t talking. That’s okay, I can manage that. Think I have enough ego for the both of us.”

Silence. Casey didn’t make any effort to respond.

“Here. I brought you a few things. Your badge… just a few things. I’ll put them here.”

Casey heard Severide putting the items down and fought back the curiosity to look at them. Severide’s hand returned to his shoulder, giving it another squeeze.

“I was thinking we could watch the Hawks game. That way, you don’t have to listen to me yapping too much.”

He could tell Severide was nervous, but anyone would be. He felt Severide messing around and heard the whine of the TV as it turned on. He didn’t pay attention to the game, now confident he was drifting in and out anyway, and desperately tried to stop himself enjoying the feeling of Severide beside him.

* * *

After Kelly had woken up with a massive headache from lack of sleep, he’d quickly cleaned the trophy and bowl and thrown them into his carryall. He made himself a piece of toast and stuck it in his mouth as he left the apartment.

He’d driven over the speed limit on his way to Med, but he didn’t care, all he cared about was getting back to Casey. He’d arrived at the ICU reception and been told it was fifteen more minutes until visiting hours, but that he could wait in the waiting area. Severide dropped himself down, wishing he’d taken more time to clean Casey’s stuff – the inside of his bag was now stained with soot – and rubbed his hands over his face. He still had his face covered when Halstead leant down in front of him, updating him on Casey’s condition and his refusal to speak. Charles would be in to do a psych assessment later in the day to try to draw a conclusion, but for now they were allowing Casey to rest. Severide was dismayed at Casey’s inability – or refusal – to talk but hoped that his silence was reserved for the hospital staff. Physically, they’d finished transfusing Casey, but now had the issue of working out his physical therapy. Again, someone would be in later to assist with that.

Severide thanked him, wondering how this nightmare had even come about.

_This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was supposed to be easy._

They told him he could go in, he froze for a moment at the sight of Casey lying there, head turned away from the door. Casey had made no effort to respond to him – and his earlier hope was smashed – but Severide tried not to let it bother him. He sat beside Casey, talking to him and putting on the Hawks game, occasionally commenting on the play. He didn’t care how long it took, he was going to be there for Casey.

* * *

Charles made his way back to Casey’s room, seeing Severide sat beside him. It was a good sight to see, that Casey had someone in his corner, especially since he’d just finished reading the man's medical records. And man, the shit that Severide didn’t know about was depressing.

Kelly didn’t seem to be at all over-the-top or demeaning towards the vulnerable firefighter, something Charles was thankful for. He knew he’d have to coach Severide along the way to best support Casey, but it was good to see the guy had an instinct for it.

Gently, he knocked on the door, not wanting to startle either officer. Severide’s head whipped around, but Casey didn’t react in any way. Charles introduced himself and moved into the room, asking Casey if he could speak to him.

No response.

Severide wasn’t sure what to do and glanced to Charles for confirmation. Daniel moved into the room, again asking Casey if he could speak to him. Again, Casey ignored him. Severide frowned and leant over, gently rubbing Casey’s arm to get him to respond.

Nothing.

Charles stepped in closer, removing Casey’s restraints and asking him to move his arm. When Casey didn’t respond, he calmly told him he was going to move his arm for him. Severide was frowning as he watched Charles pick up Casey’s limp arm, and gently hold it for a few seconds. Casey didn’t do anything, and slowly, Charles let go.

Casey’s arm flopped back beside him.

Charles thanked Casey – not missing the slight tears in his eyes – and re-secured the restraint, before moving away.

 “Kelly, can I speak to you outside for a moment?”

Severide nodded, telling Casey he’d be back and lightly patting his shoulder. He followed Charles out, hoping the psychiatrist would explain what he had just done and _what on earth_ was going on with his best friend.

But what he missed as he left the room, was Casey’s eyes flicking to the green bowl beside his bed.

As soon as they were out of Casey’s earshot, Severide turned to Charles, “What’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he talking?”

Charles let Kelly’s slip of tongue slide, “I suspect Matt has major depressive disorder, but I do need to talk to him in order to properly diagnose him. He isn’t catatonic – that’s what I was doing with his arm – I just suspect he’s too exhausted to speak, his resources for dealing with things are significantly diminished – “

“He wanted help! He said he wanted help – Casey was willing to work through it… why’s that changed?”

Daniel knew that Severide lacked the medical knowledge he had, and that he was worried for his friend. He was still in denial that Casey had sunk this low, and part of what Charles had to do was help Kelly understand what Casey was going through.

So, he was patient as he explained it to the firefighter, “Matt’s injuries are fairly severe, and I think that he knows. He’s overwhelmed. Even a patient with no history of depression can become depressed by their injuries, and I suspect that it’s all compounded in Matt. You said he was going through a tough time before he got injured – right now, it’s all too much for him to deal with.”

He let that sink in for a moment, waiting until Severide slowly nodded, “I also suspect Casey is quite groggy from the pain medications, which doesn’t account for his muteness, but wouldn’t be helping.”

Severide quickly cut in, “So you’re not worried?”

Charles gave the firefighter a sympathetic look, he knew that he was still trying to justify Casey’s depression and was hoping that it would be an easy fix. He understood, it was a pattern with many patients and their families, and he knew that Severide would need support throughout all of this as well. He wasn’t worried about Kelly leaving, though, his words were full of absolute care, “I still think that Matt is severely depressed, his injuries will make it harder to treat him. His medical records show he was on an anti-depressant when he was a teenager – do you know anything about that?”

Severide shook his head.

Charles probed, “Well, he stopped taking it abruptly when he was fifteen, never got the prescription refilled – “

Kelly wiped a hand over his face in distress, “That would have been about the time his mum shot his dad.”

Charles nodded slowly, “And going into a group home, it’s unlikely he was given the support to continue them.”

Severide felt vaguely sick at that observation, the knowledge that Casey was already suffering, and no one had given a hoot. Charles seemed to notice.

“It’s not so much about lack of care, but lack of resources. By the time someone looked over his records and realised Matt was taking them, he had probably already withdrawn.”

Reluctantly, Severide nodded, looking back to Casey, “Can he go back on them?”

Charles nodded, “I will almost certainly suggest Matt takes some form of anti-depressant. The ones he was taking aren’t generally effective with endogenous depression, which I suspect Matt has – “

“What’s that?”

“Depression caused by an imbalance of chemicals in the brain. You said he’s always been fairly aloof and reclusive?”

Severide nodded.

“Then it’s likely he’s been battling it for a long time – well, his medical record suggests that anyway – but he’s masked it. He’s done well to do that for such a long time.”

“But he has periods that it’s worse…”

“Not surprising. Sometimes, those periods don't even relate to traumatic events – which is consistent with endogenous depression. But as I said, I need to talk to him before I can make this official. And I have to ask… has Matt ever said anything about hearing voices, or have periods of high highs?”

Severide scoffed, “No. He’s not crazy.”

Again, Daniel let that slide, “Okay. I have to rule out other mood disorders, that’s why I asked. As I said, I need to speak with Matt before I can make a diagnosis, but that’s my initial theory.”

Severide was again looking back to Casey’s room, “And if it’s endo… that. Can you help him?”

Charles nodded, “I don’t want to promise anything before I get a diagnosis, and Casey has a very severe history of abuse. Endogenous depression is generally very treatment-resistant, but continued therapy and medications have proven to be very helpful. I believe Casey has a very strong support system now, but his history will make it hard for him to see it. You and Chief Boden have been here near-constantly, Christopher Herrmann has made a couple of calls. He has a family.”

Severide nodded, vowing to himself that he’d help Casey realise what he has. It did hurt him to know Matt had been suffering for a long time, that Matt thought he was alone, but he knew he wasn’t going to get any reassurance now.

“I know I probably don’t need to say this, but please don’t think that Matt is being selfish by not knowing what support he has. He really can’t see it.”

Severide was slightly offended that Charles thought he had to say it, but again, Daniel spoke over his thoughts, “As I said. I know I don’t need to tell you. But there will be times this is hard on you. Those times, it’s okay if you need reminding – “

There was sudden commotion around Casey’s ICU room, and Severide spun around. Nurses and orderlies were rushing in, and Severide assumed the worst.

Charles was already half-way back to his room when Casey’s yells punched through the air, and Severide snapped back into action.

* * *

After Charles and Severide left, Casey kept his eyes on the green bowl. It was one Dawson had picked out from an antique store. He’d always hated it. But Dawson had loved it and he was never going to deny her.

Now it was sitting just beside his bed. He could feel his body starting to tremble in rage.

He heard a nurse lean in and call checks, holding himself still.

She backed out, and Casey shifted his right arm, making his hand as small as possible.

And slipped the restraint.

He dropped his arm back beside himself as another nurse popped her head in. She ducked out, and he looked at the bowl.

The thoughts were flooding his brain again, and even though he was relieved that they were back, that the wasn't so terrifyingly flat anymore, the overpowering emotion was anger. 

Anger at the stupid green bowl. 

He started to try to move his arm towards it, and for the first time, he realised how drugged he was. It was a challenge to get his hand on the bowl, but he eventually managed. He gripped it, then brought it as high as he could, and bringing it back down to the corner of the table.

The sound of glass shattering was music to his ears, and a sliver of glass flew towards his face, marring his cheek. As it sliced into his flesh, he could feel again.

Even if only for a fleeting moment.

The pain caused the anger to melt into relief, and Casey felt his body relax in ecstasy as he dropped the remaining shards. The relief was enough that he didn't mind as he felt hands grab his arms, pushing him back into the bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't meant to be quite so long... and I kind of wanted to get to Severide and Casey having a conversation, but that's going to come in the next chapter... 
> 
> On the other hand, I have to keep writing more positive scenes I see as coming in the future of this fic... Otherwise it's too too dark. 
> 
> AND Jesse and Taylor both signed two year contracts... Sevarsey will continue into season 9!!


	15. Angels Walk with the Lonely Ones

Charles got to the room before Severide, seeing Casey smiling deliriously. He noted the shards of glass beside him. He also noted the fact that Casey wasn’t making any effort at all to get to the shards, and that Casey was allowing the hospital staff to restrain him. His vast experience was allowing him to draw conclusions in his mind, which informed which questions he was about to ask Casey. First though, he needed to allow Casey to calm down, which given he wasn’t in any danger, he wouldn’t need the help of drugs to do so.

Charles shook his head as the nurses gestured to the restraints, they had now moved the glass and Casey was calm, so he had no reason to think Casey was about to harm himself. His expression had morphed into one of anguish and depression, tears in his eyes as he melted back into the pillows.

Severide had moved forwards, going to sit beside Casey, but Charles stopped him. He wanted Casey’s consent before anything happened.

“Matt, can I please speak to you?”

Casey turned his head, the movement causing a few tears to leak out and slide down his face. He nodded slightly, and Charles moved beside him and sat down, “And do you want Kelly in the room?”

Casey stilled for a moment, then turned to look at Severide. Kelly nodded slightly, trying to signal to Casey that he was happy to be there, and slowly, Casey nodded again.

“Okay. If you want Kelly to leave, he can.”

Then he nodded to Severide, and the squad lieutenant made his way to Casey’s side, reaching down and taking one of his hands. Casey squeezed, as much as his drugged and weak body would allow, and it wasn’t something Charles missed. Tears continued to track down his face, and even though Daniel worked in emergency psychiatry and was more than used to seeing patients at their worst, the sight of Captain Matthew Casey like this was hard.

“Matt, I’m here to help you, and so is Kelly. But I need to know what’s wrong.”

Casey’s eyes flittered to the nurses still standing around his bed, and Daniel was quick to dismiss them.

But even after they had gone, Casey remained silent, tiredly looking to Charles as tears continued to dribble down his face. Where did he start? How did he even begin to explain the pain he was in? He wanted help, he knew that. But he couldn’t stop that voice in his head.

_You don’t deserve their help, Casey._

Kelly was watching his friends silence, just wanting him to admit everything he had admitted only two nights ago, but with all the events seemed a lot longer. Slowly, not wanting to startle Casey, he leant over, “C’mon, buddy. Tell him what you told me.”

Casey’s eyes only flickered to Severide’s for a moment, then he was looking back at Charles, silent.

Severide could only think of one reason he wasn’t talking – the only real reason that had been bouncing around his head since this had all started. The thing he was still adamant on fighting Charles on. If this was all made official, Casey could be barred from being a firefighter.

“Casey don’t worry about going back to work. Don’t worry about anything. We’ll get there. We’ll get you back on truck.”

Charles listened to Severide in mild awe. Even though it was clear to him that Kelly had missed the mark, that he was making assumptions of Casey’s reasoning where he shouldn’t be, telling Casey what his problem was rather than letting him actually say it, but his words were so pure, and strong, that he knew Casey at least had someone in his court.

But right now, he had to pay attention to the scene before him.

At Severide’s words, Casey’s expression had twisted into one of confusion. It was the first words since he’d been trached in surgery, so his voice was gravelly, but there was no mistaking his words, “I don’t care about that.”

Severide gaped, looking to Charles, then dropping a hand back to Casey’s shoulder, “Casey… you want to – “

Casey twisted to him, snarling, “How do you know what I want?”

Severide stopped in shock, quickly looking back to Charles. Daniel held up a hand, signaling for Severide to calm down. The interaction had at least given him something to think about, it was a good thing to witness, and Severide seemed properly scorned.

“Matt, I don’t think Kelly meant it like that. We’re here to help you. And I am not judging you.”

Casey’s expression dissolved, and he looked back to Daniel, then back to Severide. Slowly, tears pooled in his eyes as he looked back to him, “m’ sorry…”

Severide shook his head, rubbing Casey’s shoulder, “No, it’s okay, buddy…”

But Casey was shaking his head rapidly, “No. Sorry, Kel. I’m sorry… sorry…”

He continued to murmur apologies as Severide rubbed his shoulder, gently telling him it was okay, that he wasn’t leaving, that he wasn’t hurt.”

Casey turned towards him slightly, “You don’t have to stay…”

“Do you want me to, bud?”

Casey nodded.

Kelly nodded firmly, “Then I’m right here.”

Casey’s face was still scrunched up, and Daniel had no doubt that the crying would be causing Casey some pain. But before he could offer to continue their session at another time, Casey brokenly murmured, “I just want the pain to stop.”

Daniel leant forwards, “What pain?”

Casey turned back to him, pain and anguish on his features, “The sadness, and numbness…”

He sobbed a few times, closing his eyes and allowing the tears to dribble down. Tears and snot were mingling on his face, but he didn’t care, “I want it to stop… I just want it to stop…”

Severide was trying his best to not cry himself. He looked up to Daniel, hoping that the shrink would be able to say something to grant Casey his wishes.

“How do you want it to stop, Matt?”

Severide didn’t know if he could breathe. He didn’t know if he was ready to hear the answer to this question.

“I don’t care.”

“Would you be willing to work with me towards it stopping? Towards feeling better?”

Casey closed his eyes tightly, tears leaking down, but also something that Daniel identified as him fighting the urge to lie.

But he was satisfied with the answer that came out of Casey’s mouth, “I don’t care.”

Daniel nodded. He knew he had to ask Casey the next question, though it was one he often hated heating the answer to, “Okay, I have to ask you this, Matt. Do you want to die?”

Severide felt as though he’d been stabbed in the stomach. He couldn’t believe that Daniel had asked that so bluntly – and he was tempted to tell him off. Casey was vulnerable, what if he put ideas in his head, what if –

“I don’t care.”

Charles had expected that. Casey was at the rock bottom, and anything, any way out, seemed like a viable option to him at the moment. But there was still a difference between wanting to die, and wanting the pain to stop. While Daniel knew – from both professional and personal experience – that Casey was open to all options, he also knew that Casey probably had something he wanted to live for.

But that was another conversation for another day.

Daniel asked a few more questions, trying to get a read on Casey’s mood and honesty. He knew Casey wasn’t lying, he was being totally honest. Yet, he could also see how defensive Casey usually was, and knew that his walls had to have crumbled to allow him in like this. When Daniel had asked if Casey ever experienced extremely elated moods, Casey had rolled his eyes and stated the only emotion he felt was sadness. Severide almost had to leave the room for a minute when he’d heard that, but Daniel had noticed and moved to a lighter topic for a few minutes.

“Okay, and final question, Matt – do you hear voices?”

Casey actually scoffed at that, “No.”

Severide frowned, as though he was about to say something, but Casey had already cut him off, “But I can’t stop thinking… I want those thoughts to go away.”

Daniel nodded, “Okay, I can help you there, Matt.”

Casey closed his eyes again. His tears had long since dried, and he pushed his head back into the pillows. Charles nodded and gently touched his shoulder, before calling in a nurse and asking her to dose Casey on morphine.

As the drug was inserted into his cannula, Charles remained by Casey’s side. As did Severide, still holding his hand long after Casey had drifted off.

Slowly, Daniel stood, “With the morphine I gave him, he’ll probably be out for a while longer. Do you want to talk now?”

Reluctantly, Severide nodded, squeezing Casey’s hand again before allowing it to drop to his side. He looked at Casey for another moment, before smoothing out the blankets that covered his still form.

“I’ll be right back, buddy.”

Casey remained motionless, but Severide was satisfied that he’d heard him. Giving his hand one final squeeze, he followed Charles out.

* * *

As they left Casey’s ICU suite, Daniel knew that he shouldn’t be able to get Kelly far. Instead, he motioned for them to sit in two chairs by the door. They would have little privacy, but at this hour it was mostly nurses bustling about, and any other people around would be far more interested in themselves and their own loved ones.

Charles sat down and motioned for Severide to follow, and he dumped himself down and sighed, running his hands through his greying hair. Daniel allowed him a moment. He knew how hard Severide was likely taking this, but he wasn’t going to sugar coat anything.

Kelly was now focusing on a scuff on the skirting board in the hall, eyes unfocussed. Slowly, without changing his gaze, he murmured, “What’s wrong with him?”

Daniel looked over to Kelly, his eye contacts there if he needed it, “I think I’m right with my diagnosis of major depressive disorder – more specifically, endogenous depression. I don’t see any sign of psychosis – nor do I think Matt experiences psychosis. It’s a positive.”

Letting that sink in for a moment, Charles waited for Severide to work through the diagnosis. Kelly teared up visibly as he nodded, “So Casey’s just… sad all the time? He’s been like this for years?”

“Major depressive disorder is a near-constant feeling of sadness, or numbness, yes. It doesn’t mean Matt hasn’t had periods of time where he’s been happy. He experiences depressive episodes unrelated to traumatic events – but traumatic events can trigger them as well.”

Severide was looking pale, and it occurred to Daniel that this was too much too soon.

“This is something that can be managed, with the help of medication and therapy. Matt’s gone a very long time independently, and he clearly has coping mechanisms that he’s built over the years. I think, by adding to them, Matt can be pulled back from where he is.”

Severide wiped the tears from his eyes, nodding again, “He isn’t like this… this isn’t him. He doesn’t ask for help.”

Sighing, “Casey is in a very vulnerable place. He does _want_ help. That’s a really good thing.”

A single tear rolled down Severide’s cheek, “He said he wants to die.”

“He said he doesn’t care – there is a difference. Casey’s desperate, wants anything to stop himself from hurting. We can help him see that suicide? Isn’t the option.”

Severide took a moment to think about that, then he was desperately clutching at straws, “So he doesn’t want to… he isn’t going to try to…“

Charles could see Kelly didn’t want to say the words, “Kill himself? Suicidal ideation doesn’t mean someone is going to kill themselves, Kelly. A surprising number of people have it… for someone like Casey, who has always _had_ those thoughts, he is less likely to act on them. He is in a risk period, though, because he’s identified that he’s struggling more than usual. Simply put, he hasn’t decided either way.”

Leaning forwards and pressing the heels of his hands to his face, Severide nodded. With everything he had been told, everything he had now seen, he needed to be with his brother.

“Look, I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you get back to Matt. If you think of any more questions, write them down. Someone from physical therapy wants to come and talk to him… and he hasn’t eaten since surgery. As much as an overload it is to Casey now, we need to see how he responds.”

Kelly had his eyes closed, leaning back.

“I will be up after those consults, to check how Casey has gone with all that information. We can have another chat then. And of course, I’m just a page away.”

Severide nodded, not standing until Charles had started heading back down the hall.

He made his way back into Casey’s room, looking over the blonde’s sleeping features. In his sleep, Casey actually looked peaceful, and Severide tried to take some comfort in that.

He put his head down and closed his eyes, securing a hand over Casey’s and relaxing at the feel of his warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm a terrible person lol. Apparently working and studying full time can beat the crap out of you... so that happened then sickness ugh. 
> 
> This chapter isn't as proofed as I would like it... let me know what you think, I feel as though I'm going in circles at the moment. I'm definitely finding it hard to find traction at the moment. I'm tempted to delete and restart haha


	16. All I've Learned is Just Begun

Casey sluggishly opened his eyes, taking in the now familiar sight of his drab ICU room. He couldn’t work out what time of day it was, or even work out if it was day or night. The ICU was permanently brightly lit, precious life-saving seconds couldn’t be wasted turning on a light.

Not that Casey wanted those seconds.

_You don’t deserve them._

The pain in his hips had ebbed into a constant throbbing, but he knew that it would be up and down for quite a while. He didn’t care. The idea of pain still appealed to him.

He could feel a warm weight on his right side, and he slowly, turned his head to the side.

And saw Severide leaning against his bed, head buried in the sheet. His hand over his wrist.

_Why?_

Why was Severide still there?

Slowly, he turned his head to the other side, seeing that wrist was still in restraints.

_See? You can’t trust yourself._

He could vaguely remember the discussion he’d had with Charles, and he was torn on how to feel about it. He wanted help. He knew that. He knew he needed it. And he wanted more than anything to feel better – to stop feeling like this.

But he just didn’t think he deserved it.

_You’re weak. You shouldn’t need help. Why should people be bothered with you when there are others who need less work?_

Before he could help it, a slight sob escaped his lips. And just like that, Severide was moaning as his back protested the position he’d fallen asleep in.

And just as quickly, Casey closed his eyes, trying not to react as Severide moaned quietly again.

_See? You’re just hurting him. That’s all you’re good for. Hurting people._

_You aren’t worth it._

Casey felt his breath catch in his throat, and before he could stop it, he’d let out another strangled sob. Almost immediately, he felt Severide’s hand drop to his shoulder.

“Hey. S’okay, I’m here, buddy… shh…”

Casey screwed up his face, trying to stop his tears as Severide kept rubbing his shoulder and murmuring to him. Kelly’s heart sped up, not knowing how to best comfort his friend. When he’d woken, he’d been confident that Casey was asleep. But he’d just been crying silently.

And it felt like ice through his heart.

_Because there was no way of knowing how long Casey had been doing just that._

Fighting his own tears, he took Casey’s hand in one of his. He had no idea what to do. This Casey, this broken Casey, was so far from the man he was used to.

And he’d do anything to bring him back.

Although, he was starting to realise that Casey had always been broken, this wasn’t new.

And that broke his heart more than anything else.

Casey sobbed again, and Severide tried to stop himself breaking down. He wanted nothing more than to hug Casey, but his only concern was hurting his brother. He knew how painful broken ribs were, how every single movement hurt.

Screw it.

“Case? I’m gonna hug you, if that’s okay.”

Casey didn’t reply, so slowly, Severide gently leant down and draped his arm over Casey’s chest, trying to get close without actually putting any weight on him. Slowly, he felt one of Matt’s arms move to circle around his back. It was uncoordinated and sloppy, but Severide could feel his brother’s determination.

“Really, buddy. I’ll do anything for you. Anything.”

The blonde let out a loud sob at that, and Severide finally felt a few tears leave his eyes. He buried his head in Casey’s shoulder, hoping he could somehow will his own happiness into Casey, his own healing, his own health.

Whatever it took. Because he just wanted Casey to feel better. He didn't care how much it took.

After a few minutes, Casey calmed slightly, and Severide smiled down at him as he opened his eyes. He was getting used to seeing the pain Casey was in, but it that didn’t stop him from hating it.

_Deep breath._

Severide was still fighting his thoughts when he felt Casey’s hand secure itself around his. Without pausing, he gripped Casey’s hand back and squeezed.

He knew Casey would be exhausted, and probably slightly scared. It didn’t take a formal education in psychiatry to know he’d be finding comfort in the contact they had together, and it didn’t take a formal education to know that Casey needed it. He also knew that Casey reaching out was a good thing. He was still seeking support.

And it terrified him to think Casey might reach a point where he didn’t.

He didn’t say anything for a long time, and nor did Casey. They just sat in silence, completely comfortable with each other. At one point, Severide thought that Casey had drifted off, but he didn’t mind. Casey would need his energy for the physical therapy. Because he was sure that Casey would push himself, that he would work hard to get back to being a firefighter.

Because Casey wouldn't do anything else, right? 

But maybe he was subconsciously aware that it was denial. Because once the physical therapist – a kind man named Kenneth – arrived, Casey turned away, and Severide didn’t find himself in the least bit surprised.

Kenneth was a professional, though, and had been referred to Casey by Charles. He was used to seeing patients at their absolute emotional bottom – some even after suicide attempts – so he’d been prepared for Casey’s despondence. He’d kept up a peppy tone, and explained to Casey what exercises he’d wanted him doing, as well as the fact that even though his hips were currently too fragile to take his weight, they would be up for the task within a few weeks. For the time being, it was important to keep his muscle tone up, to reduce the demand on his hips when he started walking.

But when it came time for Casey to start moving, he’d just given him a glare and turned away. Kenneth gave it another attempt, using the same peppy tone as he told Matt there were no expectations, and it would be most beneficial to him if he started working immeaditely, that it would greatly increase the chances of him making a full recovery.

Severide had leaned in and stated that it was a good idea, and that he was glad a full recovery was on the table.

Casey had only stared at the ceiling.

Severide felt his positive attitude slipping, and his own demeanor started to get more and more desperate. Because he was now compensating for both himself and Casey. He could feel a cold pit of dread settling in his stomach and blossoming through his body as he looked at Casey’s face.

And he could only watch as Kenneth took it in his stride, modifying his regime to one that could be implemented by staff while he was asleep until Casey was ‘feeling more up to it’.

Severide wanted to tell Kenneth that Casey wasn’t usually like this, that _usually,_ he would be the one pushing the boundaries.

But he realised that there was no point.

Kenneth left, having assigned Casey the exercises and having set up the nurses to administer the regime. Severide tried not to let the event get to him, wracking his brain to work out what to say to his brother in order to help him. But before he could think of anything to say, the nutritionist came in.

Elizabeth was from psych as well, used to dealing with anorexic and severely depressed patients. Severide wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, but he assumed Charles knew what he was doing. She sat down beside him, telling him in no uncertain terms that he needed to try to eat. His diet had already been modified, and although it would be painful, they needed to see how his body reacted. He needed to build back up if he wanted to get back to his regular diet.

It would be painful. It would take time. It was a slow build. It  _might_ get back to normal.

But the thing was, Casey couldn’t see the future.

And there was no way he could plan for something he couldn’t see.

So, when Casey turned away, Severide didn’t even think twice about it.

Elizabeth told him that if he didn’t start eating, he would be given a feeding tube.

Casey pulled the blankets over his head.

Severide was crushed.

She gave it one more attempt at convincing Casey to eat, but he didn’t even move the covers from his head. After giving him until late afternoon, she left.

Severide wracked his brains to think of something to convince Casey to eat, he wondered if he should pull the covers down. Maybe he should turn on the TV?

What did Casey need?

He dragged a hand through his hair, not for the first time finding himself biting back tears. Another nurse popped her head in, calling checks, and Severide felt himself starting to shake with pent-up emotion. They could send nurses in to check on Casey, but no one was actually dealing with his depression. No one was actually helping him. How could they let Casey sink like this?

As his emotions continued to boil over, he couldn’t stop tears from tracking down his face. He swiped them away with a hand, scrubbing his hand into his eyes, trying to ground himself.

_This isn’t what Casey needs. Casey needs you to be strong._

But he just couldn’t get his emotions under control. He looked at Casey’s still form, and gently, he leant down and kissed the lump that he assumed was his head.

“Casey, I’ll be back, alright? I’m not going far. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

He wasn’t expecting a response, so he headed straight out the door and made his way down to the emergency room.

* * *

Daniel nodded at Choi’s thanks, relieved that he had been able to assist with his patient. A young boy with autism had come to the ER after having fallen and injured his arm. Now, being a young child and being admitted to the emergency room was frightening enough, let alone a being a young child with a sensory processing disorder. So, no one was surprised when the boy panicked at the loud noises, bright lights, the doctors, the nurses as well as the actual pain he was in. And as good as his parents were, Charles was the one who had gone in and built up the trust with him and had held the boy as he introduced him to his 'friends' and explained what they were doing, occasionally allowing the nurses to do the same things (with separate lots of sterile equipment) to him.

Luckily, Charles’ nature and expertise had allowed them to treat without any sedation, and the kid was on his way home to relax and calm down in his bedroom.

Charles hadn’t even managed to talk to Maggie about his next patient when there was a commotion behind him. People getting worked up in the ER was more than a common occurrence, and he knew he wasn’t always needed to calm things down, so he wasn’t worried as he turned to look at the source.

And saw Kelly Severide marching towards him.

Security was already following him, and he could see April and Goodwin coming over as well. Calmly, he held a hand up to security, signaling for them to back off. He didn’t think Kelly was going to hit him.

Still though, he could see from his body language that he was highly agitated, but also that he was desperate.

And he felt for the guy, he really did.

Like he’d suspected, Kelly stopped in front of him, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. One look to his hands – which were kneading his shirt – told him they weren’t about to connect with his face.

But that wasn’t going to stop Severide’s raised voice as he yelled, “You said you were going to help Casey. Now help him.”

Though Kelly's voice was unnecessarily loud, Charles held his hands up, looking Severide in the eyes, and nodding to him, “I understand, Kelly – “

But Severide shook his head, “You _said_ you’d be up after his consults. You weren’t.”

Daniel nodded, “I know. I was held up in the ED, but I’m on my way up now – “

Severide just let out a frustrated huff, “No. It’s not good enough – Casey isn’t talking. He isn’t responding… Can’t you help him? Why aren’t you? Can I have another doctor?”

It hadn’t even occurred to him to think about the confidential information he was spurting out, nor the inappropriateness of his actions. Some part of him did know that yelling at Charles wasn’t helping, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He shifted again, glancing around him.

“Alright, well, why don’t we go into the consult room and talk about – “

Severide was already shaking his head, “I don’t want to go to the fucking – I want you to come to Casey.”

“Okay, well, I can’t do that, Kelly. I need to talk to you – “

Severide let out a scream and kicked the center desk. Charles could see Maggie take a step closer, Monique behind her with a sedative in her hand. Charles shook his head, but he knew if he couldn’t calm Severide soon, there wouldn’t be much of a choice.

“Kelly, I don’t have many options here. I want to talk to you, but I think it’s better that we do that someplace private.”

Kelly looked around again, but Charles could see he was making progress.

“I think it’s best for Casey if we have this discussion in private…”

Slowly, Severide nodded. Charles motioned to the consult room and watched as Kelly trailed away. He took a moment to share a glance with Goodwin – who raised her eyebrows and nodded – before April leant in and asked if he’d like assistance. Daniel shook his head, he thought it would be best for Severide if there was no one else in the room.

* * *

Severide was already sitting down, twiddling his thumbs in anxiety. Charles sat across from him, now able to properely assess Kelly’s complexion. The man was pale, and dark bags had already formed under his eyes. He looked haggard, and Daniel could see he hadn’t taken a shower. If he had to guess, he would assume Kelly hadn’t eaten either. He knew from the nurses that he hadn’t left Casey’s room since the morning.

Feeling as though he had in fact let Kelly down, Charles sent a quick message to April to get Kelly some food before placing his tablet and hands on the table, visible and unthreatening to Severide.

Severide didn’t seem as though he was going to make the first move, seemingly embarrassed about his outburst in the ER. Gently, using his most calming voice, Charles leant forwards, “Kelly, I know you want what’s best for Matt, and I have to say, he’s extremely lucky to have that. You are going to be beyond valuable in his recovery.”

Severide didn’t answer, shifting guiltily.

“And I am going to see Matt soon. I have already looked over his reports. And I know it may not seem like any reassurance, but I am not surprised at his reaction. I expected something similar. As hard as it seems, this is part of Matt’s recovery.”

Kelly slowly nodded, before looking up, “I didn’t realise Casey would be this _sad_.”

Daniel got it. Severide had been in denial, but now he was coming out of it. And it was a hard feat. In his eyes, his friend was deteriorating in front of him, only getting worse.

“I’m sorry. Depression is a very tough illness. It’s hard on the patient, and it’s hard on their families… which is what you are to Matt.”

Daniel allowed that to sink in for a moment. He knew Severide wasn’t going to like his next words, but he also knew they were necessary, “Which is why you need to look after yourself as well.”

Jerking his head up, Kelly looked shocked. As though the notion hadn’t even occurred to him. And it probably hadn’t. This probably was the first time Severide had even considered his own emotions.

“Kelly, you can’t help Matt if you’re too tired. You can’t help him if you collapse from exhaustion. I know you’re going to be here no matter what, but you do need to take the time yourself.”

Surprisingly, Severide only looked to Daniel in understanding, nodding marginally.

“I know you’d love to stay with Casey all night, but you need proper breaks, proper rest. I have told hospital staff to start implementing visiting hours for you – “

Severide went to cut Daniel off, about to tell him he didn’t mind sleeping on the chair, but he held his hand up, “I do not see substantial benefit to Casey by you sleeping here at nights. If anything, the resulting exhaustion is of greater detriment. I know you want to be here for Casey, and you will be, but not past visiting hours.”

Severide wanted to protest again but found that he had nothing else to say.

“I am going to start implementing those visiting hours now. I have April bringing you some food, then I want you to go home and rest. I will go up to see Casey now, and I will let you know if anything changes. But otherwise, Kelly, you need to look after yourself.”

Severide felt tears sliding down his cheeks, beyond the point of caring how it appeared. He felt Daniel clap him on the shoulder, before he opened the door for April, who sat down the schnitzel and chips she’d brought him from the canteen. The nausea he’d been feeling since Casey’s accident faded, and he suddenly felt ravenously hungry. To his own surprise, he started woofing down the meal, not even thanking April as she left.

He finished the meal in record time, April coming back in and taking the plate from him, and then he was left sitting there. He wasn’t really sure what to do. He didn’t want to go home. He felt tired, but he didn’t think it was possible to sleep.

He couldn’t go to the firehouse, either, too many questions.

But he did need a distraction from the burning anxiety he was feeling.

And suddenly, he had an idea. One that seemed way to attractive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally - here is an update! Made it a little longer than usual to make up for it. 
> 
> I'm not abandoning this fic... I might need a confidence boost every now and again, but I'm going to try to swallow my anxiety XD I will be editing (meaning proofing) the earlier sections slightly, because I'm pretty slack at it lol.
> 
> Am nearing the end of the next chapter... starting to get into the pre-written sections so there'll be random ones that are completely written ahead of time XD


	17. In the Time that was Before

Kelly had arrived at the bar not long after leaving Med. He’d driven across town, hoping to find a place that no one he knew would frequent, and that meant driving away from the firehouse and the hospital. Even though everyone would likely be at Molly’s, if someone had felt the need to avoid the family – which did happen – they would have found another bar. And even though they had a common cutesy to leave each other alone if that happened, Severide knew that their concern for Casey might override that, and that he didn’t feel up to answering any questions they might have.

He’d also picked the dingiest place he could find, knowing that no one he knew would set foot in such an establishment. Usually, his paranoia would tell him he was likely to get mugged, or shot, but he just didn’t care at the time.

He went straight to the bar, taking a stool and leaning over. The bartender gave him a look, knowing that his type didn’t fit in here and assuming he meant trouble. His order of scotch on the rocks didn’t do him any justice, but a quick flash of his card – proving that he could indeed pay for it – was enough, and he plonked that glass on the table.

And Severide had drunk it before the man had a chance to move away, relaxing at the feel of the burn down the back of his throat.

And he ordered another.

As soon as the second shot was placed in front of him, he skulled it as well, the burn going straight down to his stomach. He tried to relax, rolling his shoulders back and taking a breath.

But he couldn’t erase the image of Casey in his hospital bed.

He ordered another, and the bartender gave him a weary look as he handed it over, bluntly stating that it would be his last unmixed spirit for a while. Severide was too distracted to respond.

_How could I have missed this?_

He sipped at the drink slowly, not minding the way it burnt his mouth.

_Casey was suffering… and I just missed it?_

_What kind of brother am I?_

He sipped at it again.

_I’m supposed to protect him… I’m meant to be looking out for him…_

He kept sipping his drink as the malicious thoughts bounced around his head, driving his urge to keep drinking.

Before he realised it, his he’d finished the drink.

So, he ordered another.

And didn’t even blink when the bartender put a JD and coke in front of him instead.

Just started sipping at it.

He’d always known that Casey had a hard life. He always knew that there were periods that Casey found it hard, that he struggled with his past more than others.

He’d always known that Casey was reclusive, and secretive, and he’d always, _always_ done his best to avoid attention of any form.  

But he’d had no idea that there was more to it.

He took another sip.

Back when they’d been at the academy, Casey had been the runt. He was little and skinny, his baby face and blue eyes not helping his case. He was also twenty – despite the minimum age for the academy being twenty-one, something about severe disadvantage and demonstrated maturity, whatever _that_ meant – and the fact he couldn’t legally drink hadn’t gone unnoticed.

And Ted Griffin had drawn a target on his back almost immeaditely.

Something to do with him not being allowed early entrance the year before, and _him_ being bitter about Casey being granted it.

_Sip._

On the first day of classes, he’d just followed Casey around and taunted him. Bagging out his choice of clothing – it was clear that Casey was using second-hand gear – and just generally getting in his face.

Casey had ignored it, not wanting to make a fuss.

And had sat alone at lunch, everyone too afraid of Griffin to be friends with him.

_Sip._

On the second day, Griffin had approached Casey in front of everyone, and had tried to start a fight. Casey didn’t respond, had just hung his head slightly.

So, Griffin had torn off his shirt and thrown it to the ground.

Casey had picked it up and gone to sew it because he couldn’t afford a new one.

It was while Casey was hiding our in the bathrooms that Darden had approached him and tried starting a conversation.

Casey had ignored him, too. And walked to the back of the hall – still wearing his dirty shirt, because apparently, he didn’t even have a spare – and had sat with his head down.

_Another sip. Order another drink._

Severide had found himself taking bets with the rest of the lads about how long this quiet-doesn’t-talk-to-anyone twenty-year-old would last, but he had seen Andy shaking his head and ignoring them all.

Then, that night at their apartment, Severide agreed to try to start up a conversation.

On the third day of classes, Griffin brought bourbon and poured it into Casey’s shoes while he was in the shower. Then, he had hauled Casey in front of Chief Patrick, telling him that he’d caught Casey drinking – underage – while he should be working.

Chief Patrick wasn’t an idiot, and had sent Griffin out, asking Casey if he was alright.

Of course, he’d said he was fine.

_Sip._

He’d been found by Darden, desperately trying to rid his shoes of the stench.

Because if he couldn’t afford a new shirt, like hell could he afford new shoes.

At least this time, Casey hadn’t said anything as Darden sat with him, joined only ten minutes later by Severide.

_Sip._

That lunch, they’d got their trays after Casey, and had gone and sat next to him.

Much to the surprise of the other students. The great Kelly Severide, son of Benny Severide, sitting with the maverick.

Casey hadn’t said anything, but at least he’d had company. 

_Sip._

The day after that, Griffin had found out about Casey’s history.

And Severide had been the one to pull him off Griffin as he punched him in the face.  

Casey hadn’t even been reprimanded, the CFD knowing about how Griffin had been taunting him, and knowing that Casey hadn’t been given much else of a choice.

And the only reason Griffin hadn’t been kicked out was because Casey had pled for his forgiveness.

Severide now realised that it was because Casey thought it was in some way his fault, that he didn’t think his emotions were worth kicking Ted out of the academy over. Casey hadn’t only been tying to do the noble thing – he didn’t think he was worth it.

_Sip. Order another._

After that, the rest of the students had stopped letting Ted rule over them, and they’d become a lot more relaxed and had treated Casey like everyone else, although they were perhaps afraid after seeing how ferociously he could defend himself. When the first set of grades came out, they were surprised to see Casey second to only Severide. Not that Casey said anything about it.

_Sip. Almost drop the glass._

And Casey had continued to sit with Andy and Kelly – even if they’d had to keep inviting him at first – and then he’d slowly started talking. All they knew at that point was what Ted Griffin had revealed, because Casey hadn’t really talked about himself, but at least he was _talking._ Severide knew that Andy had made the most effort, that Andy was the one that put him most at ease, but the point was Casey _was_ becoming their friend.

Maybe a month later, they went to his apartment to pick him up, and had found him in a row with his landlord.

And watched as his landlord fleeced him a few hundred dollars.

_Sip. Or’er ano’her._

Casey had seemed more embarrassed than anything, flushing as he mumbled that it hadn’t happened before, and that it was fine. Andy casually mentioned that if Casey needed it, he and Severide had a couch.

Casey hadn’t responded.

_Sip._

Another month later, long after they had both gone to sleep and long after any _sane_ person would still be awake, they had been woken up by a knock at their door.

Apparently, Casey’s landlord had been going in and stealing things, and it had escalated to a point that Casey was feeling unsafe.

For him to admit that, it was really saying something.

_Drin’ the res’. Order ano’her._

Severide remembered the night so clearly. Casey had been shaking, actually shaking, and had mumbled that he could be gone by the morning, he just needed a bed for the night.

Darden had stated that Casey would not be gone by morning, and they were expecting him to be there for breakfast.

Casey must have been exhausted, because he’d actually looked at them with wide eyes and repeated the word ‘breakfast’ with wonderment.

It hadn’t occurred to Kelly until then that he’d been going without.

_Sip. Spill th’ rest. Order another._

Casey had stayed on their couch that night, and then the night after that. Then Darden found a nicer, three-person apartment that divided among the three of them, would be cheaper than what he and Severide had been paying anyway.

He’d then looked up Casey’s apartment, just to make sure they weren’t about to ask Casey for an amount of money that he couldn’t afford.

Then they’d asked Casey, and he’d cried. Not understanding why they were willing to _move house_ to accommodate him.

_Sigh. Keep drinking. Stop seeing straight._

Severide realised he hadn’t even thought of it until then, hadn’t even been concerned that Casey had such a low vision of himself.

If he’d noticed back then, maybe he could have said something.

He was brought out of his reverie by the bartender placing a glass of water in front of him, and he realised how blurry everything had become. He shook his head, “N-no… I want a… another…”

If he had been able to hear his own voice over the loud music playing, he would have realised how slurred it was. He watched as the bartender shook his head, asking if he could call someone.

Hell, no. There’s no way he wanted anyone around to see him like this.

Severide wasn’t even aware of time passing, but somehow, he’d drunk the rest of the water, and the bartender was standing in front of him again, telling him a cab was waiting outside.

He stumbled as he got to his feet but was clear-headed enough to give the cab driver his address.

He was more or less kicked out of the cab, the driver both thankful and surprised he hadn’t thrown up in it, and he fumbled with his keys as he tried to open the door. He all but fell through the threshold, more tempted than ever to spend the night on the floor.

But nausea pulled at his insides, and he quickly pulled himself up and stumbled to the loo, where he sicked up the meal April had brought him, feeling dreadful as he started at it in the bowl.

And started to feel hot tears pooling in his eyes.

He could feel as they started to slip down his face, grief consuming him.

Why was this happening? Why to Casey?

Why him?

He couldn’t stop it as a sob worked it’s way out of his body, nor the one that followed. Before he could make sense of what was happening, he was bent double, ugly, violent sobs shaking him as he cried for everything that had happened in the last couple of days, for the sadness that Casey had felt.

For everything he knew that had happened in Casey’s past.

Nausea pulled at him again – whether from the crying, or from the alcohol he would never know – and he found himself curled around the toilet, alternating between crying and vomiting, his head pounding, emotions all over the place.

But totally unable to stop himself.

Is this what Casey felt like? Is this what Casey sometimes felt like? Like everything was just too much, everything was overwhelming?

He wouldn’t know. 

And that was fucking terrifying.

Another round of heaving later, and the nausea subsided. Severide found that he didn’t have the strength to leave the room, nor to stand. He curled up, bringing his knees to his chest to gain some semblance of warmth, and tried to stop his body from shaking as his eyes slipped shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help it :) 
> 
> More Casey next chapter I promise


	18. I am Nothing if Incomplete

Night had long since fallen over Med, and Casey was curled up on his side, avoiding Daniel’s gaze. The position had to be anything but comfortable for him, his hips protesting the angle they’d been put at, and the weight that now rested on them, but Daniel could hardly blame him for his avoidance. After all, he _had_ just authorized the insertion of the feeding tube.

It hadn’t been the easiest decision. Patients like Casey liked control, they needed it to stop the feeling of depression, to stop everything becoming so overwhelming. And he suspected that Casey – having always kept himself busy – was already adapt at using it as a coping mechanism. But now he was lying in a bed, unable to stand by himself. And even though it would be great if he could still _feed_ himself, he had now gone too long without sustience to deem it medically safe. Even if Daniel had asked the ethics board to convene, they would never have allowed Casey to continue without the tube.

So, regretfully, he’d authorized its insertion, and now Casey was resentful.  

At first, Casey had refused to swallow the cup of water that would help the tube find its way to his stomach. He’d had two motivations – one being his own fear of drinking something, his inner-thoughts telling him he didn’t deserve water, and the other being because he wanted to preserve one last shred of dignity. But after ten minutes of struggling against the tenderness as a highly apologetic nurse tried to guide it to his stomach, he’d given in and taken the cup, swallowing the smallest sip of water he could so the end of the tube could finally find its way to his stomach.

And then he’d thrown up.

Whether it was his body rejecting the first miniscule amount of substance it had been given, or whether it was Casey’s anxiety and depression, or it was his internal injuries, the doctors weren’t sure.

But it meant they’d had to pull the tube out – the end of it now poking out through Casey’s mouth – and retrieve a new one, starting the process again.

By some small mercy, Casey hadn’t thrown it up that time. But that hadn’t stopped him picking at the tape on his cheek, and they’d had to fit his hands with mesh mitts to prevent him from pulling it out.

It had been at that point that Casey had rolled onto his side and refused to acknowledge any of the staff.

Psychologically, Charles had been evaluating every moment. While Casey’s refusal to accept help had been noted – and Daniel suspected it was Casey still thinking he was undeserving of help – and much of the rest of his behaviour was still reminiscent of one severely depressed, Daniel had noted Casey’s concern over his appearance. In some patients, it wouldn’t be a good thing, but Casey’s desire to maintain his appearance wasn’t an unhealthy infatuation, it was something he found solace in, something he still had control over.

The issue was that he was now having that taken from him.

But by trying to maintain it, he was still fighting.

Which was crucial.

But for now, Casey was avoiding Charles and reality, and Daniel knew he wouldn’t get much more out of his patient for the night. But he also didn’t want to leave Casey alone. His reaction to Severide’s presence had already told him that the truck captain wanted company, and that he was reassured by the presence of somebody else. He’d have to ask Severide if there was anyone else who would be there for Casey. He already knew from his emergency contact list that he had no family to speak of, but he was hoping that there would be others that Casey could reveal himself too.  

Because he knew from experience, that treating patients who were as private as Casey, was often less than positive.

And that they usually got worse before they got better.

It wasn’t until after Casey had drifted off, assisted by the painkillers, that Daniel authorized the admission of an anti-depressant and left him for the night.  

* * *

Severide groaned as consciousness came back to him. His head was _pounding,_ his mouth tasted foul, his entire body was aching, and he was freezing. He didn’t need the strong stench of puke to know how ill he’d been the previous night. Gingerly, he brought a hand to his head and tried to push through the mental confusion.

What the fuck had happened last night?

All too quickly – and too soon, in his opinion – everything came crashing back, and he groaned as he remembered his stint in the bar.

_Dammit._

_Casey doesn’t need this right now._

Severide was numbly aware that he still reeked of alcohol and puke, and that there was no way he could turn up to the hospital like this without arousing suspicion and concern. But upon pulling out his phone – which was almost out of charge – he realised that he needed to get going soon if he was going to be there in time for visiting hours to start. He only gave himself enough time to turn the water on, not waiting for it to heat up before he flung himself in. Too late, it occurred to him he was still wearing clothes.

_Oh well, they need to be washed anyway._

He stripped them off, leaving them in a damp pile as he stepped out and hastily dried himself off with a towel. He didn’t waste a moment as he pulled on a fresh change of clothes and was out the door before he even thought to bring a charger for his phone.

_April will have one._

He raced out of the house before he realised his car wasn’t there, and doubled back, getting Casey’s truck that had been brought back from the house courtesy of Cruz and Otis.

He didn’t even realise that he had his shirt on backwards as he pulled out and sped towards Med.

* * *

Casey was positioned on his back, head to the side, focusing on the nurse as she lifted his leg, held it, and then set it back onto the bed. He watched her do it again, her lips moving as she counted, then she set it by his side again.

_Why are they bothering._

She moved to his left side, gently removing the covers from his more injured leg. It took him a moment to turn his head to look at her. He was still extremely sore, and his body felt very lethargic. Every movement was exhausting, and the feeding tube going into his face was still tender.

But he wasn’t going to complain.

That would make him undeserving and ungrateful.

The nurse took his leg and slowly lifted, knowing that it was the more painful one. Casey couldn’t stop the slight wince that escaped his lips, and the nurse gave him a sympathetic expression. It was the closest he’d come to giving a response the whole day.

But he ignored that, too.

Now that the drugs were starting to clear out from his system – and the slight concussion he’d had was fading, he didn’t feel nauseous anymore… at least, no more than the constant churning he was accustomed too, a result of the depression and anxiety he’d always had – he was becoming more aware, and the feelings of anguish were washing over him. 

And he wished it wasn't. 

 

With the drugs, he had been able to ignore everything that was happening, building himself a shield of armor that the voices in his head hadn’t been able to penetrate. Even though he still felt as though he was drowning in misery, he had been out of it enough that he hadn’t been consumed with his depression, even if it was for a short while.

Now it was all coming back.

And he couldn’t stop the thoughts that he wasn’t good enough, that no one loved him, that no one cared about him.

That everyone was better off without him, and that they all wished he was dead.

Only now was he becoming aware of how well his previous coping mechanisms had worked for him. Usually, he would distract himself from his thoughts by keeping himself unbearably busy. It was why he had run for alderman, why he’d exposed himself to that community. It was why he did construction – it was the perfect balance of physical and intellectual work – he was so focused on producing the perfect product, that it hid his thoughts from himself.

And firefighting – well, it went unsaid that it was the same. The distraction of the adrenaline, the gravity of the life-and-death situations meant those thoughts were the last thing in his mind.

But lying here, he had _nothing_.

And he could feel himself sinking into the darkness, into the numbness. And he was itching for a distraction, for something that felt _real._

But he didn’t think there was any way he could scratch that itch.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain as the nurse continued to move his leg. He must have gone to sleep, because the next thing he was aware of, the blanket was back over his legs and the nurse had gone.

Twisting his head around, he spied the clock on his wall. It was already past visiting hours. Severide wasn’t here.

Severide wasn’t coming.

Severide had left him.

Just like he’d thought.

_You couldn’t really expect him to come back, could you?_

he lifted a hand up to cover his face, pressing his wrist across his eyes. 

Despite the fact that he hadn’t been able to understand why Severide had been coming back, that he’d thought that the squad lieutenant should save himself and leave, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with loneliness as he realised he was alone.

_Severide’s gone._

Deep breath.

 _Severide’s gone._   

He felt sick, unbearably sick.

But he tried to hide it. Tried to hide his pain.

Kelly had realised that he was a burden and left.

He had been selfish for thinking Severide would have stayed with him anyway.

Because Kelly still had a life, Kelly had so much without him. Kelly could continue to progress up the ranks, could get a girl, get married, and have a family. Because he knew that’s what Severide actually wanted.

Then Kelly would be happy, and he wouldn’t need to worry about some stupid depressed friend.

He just hoped Kelly would forget all the hurt he’d caused him, all the worry over the years. That he could forgive him that his final friend, had been a waste of time.

That Kelly could move past the fact he had no one from his early life left.

He was drawn from his thoughts as a nurse opened his door. He thought he recognised this one, that he had seen her a few times. She smiled at him, and he fought initial urge to smile back.

“Hey, Matt. I’m just going to set up a feed bag and start the process. We need you sitting up. I’m going to raise the bed slowly so it shouldn’t hurt too much.”

Casey dropped his hand back to his side, nodding slightly. They'd removed the restraints over night, and though they still hung from the bed, they were no longer secured to his wrists. It's not like he'd be able to get far or actually hurt himself.

She started to raise the bed up. Casey had been propped up before – his default position was reclined so it took more weight of his hips, but for the feeding tube to be inserted he’d been upright, as well as other times he’d been sat up for various reasons – and for the tube to work, the upright position was beneficial and more comfortable. Short periods of sitting more upright wouldn’t harm him – in fact, the movement was good – but it would still be painful.

Once he was upright, the nurse set about setting up his bag and connecting it to the tube. She started the pump, and Casey listened to the slight hum of the machine.

_You’re so useless you can’t even feed yourself._

_It’s a good thing that Severide left._

He frowned slightly, and the nurse picked up on it.

“Matt, this tube is nothing to be ashamed of. Hundreds of people have one. Given your condition, it’s the best thing.”

Matt was tempted to ask her what she meant by condition – his injuries, or his depression. But he didn’t get a chance before she was speaking again.

“Your friend – Severide – is on his way in. He wanted me to apologise on behalf of him for being late.”

He couldn’t stop it has he glanced up in shock, mouth dropping open as he stared at her. He started trembling in shock, and the nurse quickly picked up on it.

“He’s making his way in now, Matt. He said he ran into some car trouble.”

He gave it a moment, before he nodded and watched as she left. He didn’t move his eyes from the door until he saw it open again, but it was just another nurse checking.

* * *

Severide pelted down the hall, doctors, nurses, patients and families alike needing to jump away to avoid a collision. He knew how much trouble he could get for being reckless like this, but he just didn’t care. He was already late, and he felt terrible about it.

He was skidding around the corner to the ICU when he finally collided with someone, sparling out on the floor. He looked up in horror to see Daniel Charles looking down at him, but relaxed when the man smiled.

“Good morning, Kelly. Here to visit Matt?”

Maybe it was because the man was a psychiatrist, but he always had a way of putting others at ease.

Severide still flushed as he picked himself up, hastily brushing himself off and nodding.

“I’m going to stop you there… I wanted to update you on his condition before you see him.”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Kelly nodded and was as patient as Charles explained that they had inserted the feeding tube – which didn’t surprise Kelly – and that they had started Matt on an anti-depressant, an SSRI that tended to work well with depression. What did surprise Kelly was that the anti-depressant could take up to three weeks to work. Daniel had told him that if they didn’t work, they could always adjust Matt’s dose and try a new one. Severide didn’t find it nearly as reassuring as he should have, because he didn’t want to imagine months and months more of Casey being this depressed. But Daniel had maintained that it was positive, that it would help Casey in the long run. 

Then Daniel had asked him if he’d had a good rest, asked if he’d had a proper meal and had got eight hours.

Severide was confident that he saw through his lie, but Daniel smiled and nodded, telling Kelly that it was good news.

Then, he’d mentioned that he had his shirt on backwards, and Severide had flushed a deeper shade of red Daniel ambled away.

So, Severide was slightly wracked with guilt as he walked back to Casey’s room, mulling everything over. He’d already made himself promise to not react to Casey’s feeding tube, because he was confident that he would be anxious about it.

He knocked on the door, more out of a respectful warning than anything else. The ICU was mostly made from glass, so he could already see as Casey jerked his head around and saw him.

And tears filled his eyes.

Quickly, Severide opened the door and walked in, sitting on the side of Casey’s bed and reaching out for his hand. If he was honest, Casey looked pale and tired, the feeding tube only exacerbating how ill he looked.

But his expression was even more heart breaking. One of shock. Shock that he hadn’t been abandoned.

“Hey, Case.”

Casey just kept looking at him, before a few stray tears made their way down his cheeks. Kelly reached out and took his hand, squeezing it and smiling.

“I’m here, bud.”

Casey nodded slightly, then dropped his head. Severide carefully moved beside him and guided Casey’s head to his shoulder, relaxing as he felt the tension leaving Matt’s body.


	19. The Conscience Never Fades

Kelly remained beside Matt for the better part of the morning, not moving for a moment. He had two reasons for that. One; he didn’t want to hurt Matt, either physically or emotionally.

Two; Casey wouldn’t let go of him.

He didn’t mind, of course. He knew that this journey was going to be hard – beyond hard. And if his close contact without saying anything was what Casey was craving right now, then that was exactly what he was going to give him.

He was aware that Casey had been matching his breathing for some time, something he knew would be extremely painful for the blonde’s fractured ribs. But he resisted the urge to breathe any shallower. Casey needed to breathe deeply in order to prevent pneumonia, and he knew that the nurses had been unable to get him to do it, and that they would be forced to put him on BiPap if he didn’t improve. So, if this accidental therapy was working, then he was going to stick to it.

Because everything was a struggle at the moment, and it scared the shit out of him.

But what scared him more, was how much Casey had to be hurting to be in this state.

He knew how reliant Casey’s identity was on his physical ability, and he knew that Casey needed to be able bodied in order to fight his depression. He understood what Charles had meant when he said everything had compounded in Casey, and he just hoped the psychiatrist had a plan of action that could help him.

He turned his head slightly, just enough so he could see the blonde’s face. Casey had his eyes closed, but it was clear he wasn’t asleep. His lips were moving, repeating the same sequence of words, over and over. It took Severide a moment to work out what Casey was saying.

_Severide came back. Severide cares. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here. Severide came back. Severide cares. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here…_

And with the realisation of what he was saying, Severide couldn’t stop his heart breaking once again. The fact that Casey needed to put in so much effort into convincing himself made him unbearably sad. Not because he felt betrayed, but it saddened him to know how tough Casey was finding everything. Of course he cared, and of course he wasn’t going anywhere. And he would do whatever he could to convince Casey of that.

Before he could build up the courage, though – or work out what to say – there was a knock at the door.

* * *

As soon as Linda had knocked, Casey had stopped his mantra and pretended to be asleep. He was doing a pretty good job, too, but Severide knew the Linda could see through his disguise. But neither of them said anything as she hooked up Casey’s feed bag and started the cycle.

She must have been aware of Severide’s eye tracking her every move, because she smiled as she turned back and explained that it was a form of enteral feeding that would give Casey a full meal and aimed to prevent further weight loss. Casey would be receiving intermittent feedings, with the aim of getting him back onto a liquid low-fiber diet. It wouldn’t be painful, but it was a feeling Casey would need to get used to. It was also a test, if Casey was unable to tolerate the enteral feeding, then there was a sign something further was wrong with his digestive system. They doubted that, though, the theory being that Casey’s refusal to eat was purely psychological. Psychological still meant it was a serious medical issue, but at least they would know what type of treatment Casey needed.

Severide was nauseous with all that information and couldn’t work out whether he was more worried about Casey being _physically_ unable to eat or _psychologically._ Both concerned him in different ways, and he found himself hoping for whichever was easier to fix.

He got the impression that Casey was listening as well, though the blonde captain didn’t say anything. Again, Severide wished he knew if that was a good or bad thing. But that was the thing with Casey’s illness. There was no black and white. There was no good and bad. Only uncertainty.

* * *

Matt had no idea how he’d ended up allowing himself to relax against his Kelly. Everything in his mind was telling him that it wasn’t okay, that leaning against his _best friend_ was inappropriate, that he wasn’t worthy of the contact. He hated that he was allowing himself to be so weak, allowing himself to take up so much of Severide’s time.

But he needed it. More than anything.

He had no idea how much Kelly knew, nor how much Kelly understood. He knew that Severide had been researching depression and had been talking to Charles, and obviously he knew his friend wasn't an idiot. But he didn't know how much Kelly knew about his history - there was so much he knew he'd never revealed. As for his treatment - he had no idea what Kelly had been told. Had no way of knowing. 

And he found that he cared about that a lot more than his injuries. 

 

So, before he could stop himself, he voiced his next thought, “They put me on anti-depressants.”

Severide glanced up. He hadn’t expected Casey to be so forthcoming about his medications, had thought that Casey would probably be ashamed, that he’d never admit to needing meds. Not that he thought Casey should be ashamed, but he knew the blonde wasn’t exactly the epitome of having realistic expectations about himself.

And now he knew why.

Realizing that Casey was staring at him, Severide nodded, “I know, Case. I think it’s good…”

He could see that the response hadn’t satisfied Casey, but he wasn’t sure about what else to say. He didn’t want to lecture Casey about the benefits of anti-depressants – even if he had done some reading, he was by no means a psychiatrist and didn’t have a deep understanding about them – there were so many different classes, and all of them worked differently. He didn’t even know which ones Casey was on. In fact, the only thing he did know was that Casey needed them, and that it was due to biological and chemical factors, they most certainly weren’t a sign of weakness. No, it wasn’t his place to talk to Matt about his meds, that was best left to the medical team. 

“Seriously, Case. If they help – even a little bit – I think you should take them. Any help is worth it.”

Casey dropped his gaze, staring obsessively at his hands, “You don’t think it’s… weak?”

Severide shook his head, hating that Casey had even thought that. He wasn’t surprised, though. He guessed very little about the firehouse – very little about _Casey’s life_ – would have implied that anti-depressants weren’t a form of weakness. Because even if there had never been any discussion actively against anti-depressants at the firehouse, even if no one had ever said it was a sign of weakness, the implication was certainly always there.

And he had no way of knowing exactly what Casey’s parents had said.

At least at the firehouse any ideas against anti-depressants had only been arrogance. Severide knew that he himself hadn’t understood it until he’d spoken to Charles and done his online research. It was to do with brain chemistry, not weakness. Casey was at a disadvantage purely because of his genes.

“No, Case. I really don’t think so… I don’t know an awful lot, but I do know that you need them, and it’s not because you’re weak.”

Maybe he sounded a little demeaning – which wasn’t his intention – because Casey dropped his gaze again. Anxiety stirred as Severide wracked his brain, subconsciously rubbing the back of Casey’s hand, trying to think of something to say, how to apologise. But he didn’t have to think for long, because the next thing he knew, Casey was shifting, “They didn’t help last time…”

So _that_ was what was upsetting Casey.

“Honestly, Case… I don’t know the names… or much about how they work… but you’re on different ones this time, right?”

Casey nodded that he was, tears sliding down his face.

Trying to work out how to best word his thoughts, “I think Charles knows what he’s doing… if the old ones didn’t work, he’d have put you one ones that will work this time… or at least, are more likely to work…”

Tears were still sliding down Casey’s face, unashamedly, “I don’t want to wait three weeks…”

Feeling as though he’d just been stabbed, Severide nodded, “I wish I could speed it up, Case… I’m going to be here. I promise.”

He didn’t blame Matt when he didn’t look up, because it wasn’t _really_ much in the way of reassurance. Casey would still be in unbearable pain for the coming weeks, and Severide knew that aside from his support, there would be nothing at all he could do to make Casey happy. Nothing he could do to make it easy. Even if Casey were physically active, this would be a challenge for them both.

Almost as though he understood what was going through Kelly’s head, Casey leant against his arm, closing his eyes once again. He must have drifted off – healing took a lot out of you – because the next thing he was aware of was hushed whispers.

_“As I said, Kelly. There isn’t a right and wrong way to treat this… well, okay. There is a wrong way… but there are multiple right ways… and unfortunately, there is some element of trial and error to find what helps Matt the most.”_

That was Daniel. Even though he generally despised psychiatrists – not that his hatred was unfounded, he’d had more than his fair share of negative experiences – he’d found very little to dislike about the man. Charles was practical and honest, which he found reassuring, and the man didn’t pander around. He didn’t lie in order to soften the blow but would give all the details needed and help his patients come to a practical conclusion, so it didn’t seem so daunting.

None of the shrinks he’d talked to in the past had done that. When he was a kid – and afterwards, when he was a ward of the state and in foster care – adults had always spoken down to him, spoken to him as though he were a kid. Even though he had far more life experience than all of them combined. And they’d _explained_ why he felt that way and _explained_ why he was depressed. Rather than allowing him to explain it himself.

The therapists at school had initially told him his home life was good, that divorced patents who argued was no big deal. They’d listened with false sympathy, and told him to be grateful for what he had. Then when his mother had gone to prison, he’d been put up a level, and had to start going down the road to see the therapist. But they were too busy – saw too many _broken_ kids – to actually have time to care. At first, he’d hoped that they would start caring. But then some of the boys in his year level had started to call him ‘psycho-boy’ – as if his mother being in prison wasn’t enough – and he’d quickly learned how to cover his depression, and eventually the school stopped mandating that he went. 

That was how he got away with cutting for as long as he did. Of course, eventually the group home picked up on it, and he’d had to go and talk to a really _nice lady_ who had called him ‘Mark’ for an entire session, before stating she didn’t see anything alarming, and that he was ‘dealing with the situation’. He still thought about the poor Mark kid who had no doubt been given excessive therapy for self-harm he didn't do, but he didn’t care enough to say anything. He just put as much effort in finishing school and getting out of the group home as possible.

He’d started at the academy – earlier than usually allowed, and on a scholarship and financial plan – and he’d been nervous as hell before his first psych session. He knew the people from his past were morons, surely the CFD had competent people on staff. Firefighters needed to be of a fit mental state, and he’d been so scared that they’d work out that he had depression. But they hadn’t. He’d put more effort into working out what to say than more or less everything else for the academy, but he’d passed it with flying colours. 

No one had even said anything.

From then, he’d just learned to hide his depression, even though he craved comfort, prayed for some reassurance and support. But his fear that the wrong person would find out and that it would be game over, and that fear overrode everything else.

But now Severide knew.

Severide knew, and he was okay with it.

If Matt had ever thought that someone would find out and would be _okay with it_ , he might have said something earlier.

_“I don’t know what to say to him… I don’t know how to talk about these things… don’t know how to not appear demeaning…”_

Still unable to believe why Severide cared so much, Casey thought about his words. He didn’t want to make Kelly anxious. He didn’t want Kelly to be unsure what he could say around him. But the words meant so damn much to him.

Because Kelly was thinking about how to best help him. And that was more than he’d ever had before.

_“More often than not, any words are better than none. Matt will snap at you. He will lash out at you. That is just part of the process. It’s unavoidable – “_

_“I don’t care. I can deal with Casey snapping.”_

Matt was starting to struggle to remain impassive. Severide’s words meant more than he’d ever know, and the emotion wanted to show itself on his face. But he didn’t want them to know that he was listening in.

Partially, because he knew it was rude. But more so, because he wanted to hear Kelly’s words.

Part of his brain yelled at him that it was a sign of weakness, and that _pretending to be asleep_ in order to hear reassurances was pathetic, but the bigger part was just craving the words – not wanting to hear them but needing too.

_“He will try to push you away. It’s just a defense – you need to be sure you can deal with that.”_

_“I can. I don’t care if he hurts me. I’m not leaving. He needs me… just might need to be reminded to swallow my pride every now and again.”_

That time, Casey couldn’t stop the emotions from invading his face, and he screwed it up as he tried not to cry. He was numbly aware that Charles was saying something in response to Severide’s statement, but even Kelly wasn’t listening to him. He’d leaned back over him, taking his hand and putting the other to his chest.

“Case… I mean it. I’m not leaving.”

Matt glanced up, tears already filling his eyes. Severide was teary too, brought on by the emotion of the situation.

“I – I still don’t understand.”

Even though his heart broke at that, Kelly just nodded, “I know, Case. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to understand that. I’ll wait as long as I have too.”

Casey just watched him for a moment, weighing it all up. Everything in his mind was telling him that he didn’t deserve Severide’s care, but he wanted it so damn bad.

And the way Kelly’s hand was resting on his chest…

He couldn’t stop the tears running down his face.


	20. It Burns the Bones

Once Matt had stopped crying, Charles had once again brought the discussion back to his treatment. There would be a lot of talk therapy, even once the anti-depressants had kicked in. Charles explained that even though the SSRIs would help balance Casey’s mood, talking was and always would be the most helpful form of treatment. 

And Severide could only watch as Matt just tiredly accepted it.

Kelly knew that it meant that Casey was so tired, so sick of being in pain, that he was willing to try anything. He just didn’t want to be in pain anymore.

Matt had barely lasted the conversation and was soon back into a deep sleep. Charles waited until Casey was clearly out cold, and then looked back up at Severide.

Noticing how terrified he looked.

 “Kelly… Right now, Matt’s at his lowest point. He’s overwhelmed, and he’s struggling to see any future where he’s not feeling this way. We need to help him see that there is one. He wants to get better, Kelly. He’s said as much. And that is going to play a huge part in his recovery.”

Severide was almost unable to come up with a response to that. He believed Charles, of course, and he still knew that it wouldn’t be easy. But one thought couldn’t stop repeating itself in his mind.

_What if Casey stops wanting to try?_

And that was possibly the most terrifying thing in all of this. He was scared, worried for Casey, but he knew it could get worse.

And the fact that he knew it wasn’t even all that far off made him almost sick.

He voiced his thoughts and was met with a sympathetic and understanding look from Daniel, “Kelly, I know that it’s scary, and if it comes to that, then we can deal with it, but it’s best for you to keep a positive mindset. Let me do all the worrying, okay?”

Nodding slowly, Severide looked down at Casey’s sleeping face. He couldn’t stop his mind from going in circles, unable to stay in any form of positive thought. On one hand, he knew he should be relieved that there was a plan, and one where Charles could see a good chance of positive results, where Casey was getting the help he needed.

But he couldn’t stop himself from being dismayed that Casey needed that help in the first place.

Daniel still had more to say to Severide, but he could see that Kelly had met his limit. Any more information would just be an overload. So, his suspicions about Casey’s childhood and how it had advanced his depression would have to wait. While Matt had already been thrown into the deep end, there was no reason to toss Kelly in to sink as well. It was best for both Matt and Kelly to ease Severide into this. And once Charles was sure that Kelly didn’t have any other questions, he gave them some privacy. Casey was still being checked on every five minutes – something that Kelly hardly even noticed anymore – so if they needed him, Daniel was never far away.

* * *

Severide was sitting in silence when Casey shifted, eyes squinting as they opened. His breath caught in his throat slightly, resulting in a grunt, and Kelly glanced up.

Matt was staring at him, emotionless expression on his face. For a moment, Kelly felt as though he was nothing more than a piece of furniture in the room. Something that one wouldn’t bother to put on a mask around – something that wasn’t worthy of acknowledgement. It made Severide uncomfortable. Made him feel as though he wasn’t really there. But he desperately tried to find a positive.

At least Casey wasn’t fighting him.

Slowly, cautiously, Severide reached out and took Casey’s hand. Almost immeaditely, Casey clutched, tightening his fingers around Kelly’s. His mask started to slip, and for a moment, Severide could see the utter desolation in Casey’s eyes.

Severide couldn’t stop his mind conjuring other moments he’d seen Matt like that. At those times, Matt had never been so unguarded, but the lost look in his eyes was familiar. The one that he’d previously thought meant that Casey was thinking deeply, but now realised it meant more.

“I’m sorry.”

Severide glanced back up at that, only then realizing he’d been lost in his own thoughts. Casey was now looking up at him, head angled so he was facing upwards.

Severide shook his head slightly, hating that Casey seemed to be so adamant to apologise for something he had nothing to apologise for, “You don’t need to apologise, Case. I know you think you do, but you don’t. I am here because I want to be – “

But Matt shook his head harder, staring at Kelly with utter sincerity, “No. I’m sorry for cutting…”

Not following for a second, Kelly wasn’t able to stop his frown. Then he cocked his head, “Why are you sorry?”

Dropping his gaze, Casey suddenly found himself very interested in Kelly’s hand, squeezing the flesh and inspecting his nails. He was fascinated with the imperfections in Kelly’s skin, a small scar on one of his fingers, the rough calluses…

“It’s selfish.”

Again, Kelly didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t think that self-harm was selfish, and frankly, he couldn’t understand why Casey thought it.

Matt must have been more switched on that he thought, “I’m worrying you, just because I’m trying to make myself feel better. Selfish.”

But Kelly felt as though he had been punched in the gut. He felt as though Casey couldn’t be more wrong. Casey wasn’t selfish for trying to make himself feel better – but he also knew that the method he was using was wrong. Cutting wasn’t the way. But he didn’t think it was selfish.

“You’re not selfish for wanting to feel better, Matt. Not at all. You’re not selfish for trying to feel better.”

There was an implied ‘but’, and both Casey and Severide knew it. Matt waited, still staring up at Kelly, who was desperately trying to work out what to say next, how to phrase it. Casey didn’t know it, but he’d been looking into different methods to prevent self-harm, how to help Casey resist the urge. But some of that was for Daniel to discuss. Plus, it was hard not to seem demeaning. Comparing his research to Casey’s actual experience.

“I wish… I mean, I really hope that we can get to a point that you don’t have to do that, though. I hope that there’s an alternative we can find that works… because it’s not selfish, but I… hope we can find something else that works.”

Briefly, Kelly wondered if Matt had noticed the number of pauses in his speech, during which he was trying to work out the best thing to say. But Matt didn’t say anything about it, so Kelly certainly wasn’t going to bring it up. Instead, Casey focused on one thing.

“You said ‘we’”.

Kelly nodded, swallowing a lump as he looked to him, “Yeah, bud. We. Because I’m here every step of the way…”

Casey still looked confused, but then the closest thing to a smile the Kelly had seen in a long time came over his face, “… even if you need to keep repeating it.”

Severide grinned at that, “Even if I need to keep repeating it. I’ll put it on a record, if you want… we can put it on loop.”

For a moment, a brief, brief moment, a smidge of happiness came into Matt’s features. If Severide didn’t know everything that was going on, he wouldn’t have thought that Casey was happy at all, but he knew how much that small amount meant. He grabbed Casey’s hand, squeezing, and smiled down at his brother.

* * *

Matt had been quiet after that. He’d remained still and unmoving, but he also hadn’t reverted into either of the states that frightened Severide so much. He still looked sad and exhausted, but the overwhelming pain wasn’t there. He also wasn’t blank, repressing anything close to an emotion.

Kelly put some effort into having a conversation with him, and Matt responded, but his answers were short, and would turn it straight back to him. At first, Kelly didn’t understand what he was doing, and considered slipping back into silence. But when he tried that, Matt had shifted uncomfortably, and had sent him a pleading look.

Then Severide understood that Casey just wanted him to talk.

So, he did. Telling Casey about a time in high school where he and Darden had been suspended for smoking pot behind the gym. They’d both decided to not tell their parents, had forged their signatures and had spent their suspension walking the streets of Chicago.

That is, until Kelly was walking past a fire scene and he spotted a very unamused Benny.

Apparently, Benny had taken them both back to the station where he proceeded to yell at them, which would have been in front of Boden. Casey largely didn’t react to the tale, but he did have a slight smirk at that.

Kelly was wondering if stories from his past were the best thing to tell, given that they might make Casey think about his own background and upset him. But Kelly knew he couldn’t restrict himself like that, or he’d have next to nothing to talk about.

Just as he was trying to come up with another story of his and Darden’s misadventures – of which there was a lot – the door opened, and Kenneth poked his head in. Casey couldn’t mask his slight frustration as the man smiled and walked in the room, asking if Casey felt up to a physical therapy session. Severide had shot Casey a pleading look, wanting nothing more than for Casey to start working towards his physical health. Matt already knew that the sooner he started, the more likely he’d make a full recovery, and Severide hoped that held some meaning.

So, he was delighted when Casey nodded slightly, whispering that he was ready.

Kelly stayed by his side, ready to assist in any way he needed. Kenneth was running Casey through his physical therapy exercises, which mainly focused in improving the movement to his hips and increasing muscle strength. The hardest ones involved Kenneth holding Matt’s leg up, then asking him to keep it in position, all the while having his hands just below so he could catch Matt should he need too.

But after only a few movements, it became clear how much pain it was causing Casey. The hospital was starting to get reluctant to give Casey more pain meds, because it wasn’t a permanent solution, but Kenneth still looked at Casey’s pale complexion and decided a small dose of morphine was needed, just enough to take the edge off.

Kelly watched, heart sinking as Matt would try one exercise, wincing with each movement, tears sneaking out of the corners of his eyes. Each time that Kenneth returned his legs to position, it was clear that Casey was really battling to build up enough will to go to the next one.

Kenneth was encouraging, though, congratulating Casey on his progress but also remaining true to the facts. Matt was doing well, but he still had a long way to go.

After Matt was asked to hold his leg up another time, his face lost all the colour it had. He dropped his leg – which was at least caught by Kenneth – and turned his head to the side as he retched, the pain finally getting to him. Kelly quickly clapped a hand to his shoulder, rubbing firmly. Fortunately, Casey only spat up a little bit of saliva before he was able to get in control of his stomach.

He closed his eyes and started breathing deeply, only responding with a single word when Kenneth asked him where the worst of the pain was. It was in his lower back – muscle pain. Which Kenneth stated was normal and expected. One muscle relaxant later, and some colour started returning to Casey’s face.

Severide watched carefully as the physical therapist stated that Casey had done well, and that for now, it was enough. He could work on the assigned exercises with the nurses later, if he wanted, but for now he’d made good progress. Matt just sort of nodded tiredly, too exhausted to speak.

Carefully, Kelly helped him sip some of the water, waiting until the flush on his cheeks had faded. He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the scene. It was still a far cry from what Casey was usually like, but at the same time, it was an improvement to what he’d seen recently. And even if he knew Casey was likely to continue being up and down, he was eager to discuss with Charles what it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the premiere... well, I was certainly in the mood to keep writing this. 
> 
> Sorry for the wait. Not too much longer and I'm on summer break, so hopefully things get better then lol.


End file.
